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Democracy and Monarchy 

FRANCE 



FB03I THE INCEPTION OF THE GREAT 

BEVOLUTION TO THE OVERTHROW 

OF THE SECOND EMPIRE 



CHAELES KENDALL ADAMS 

Professor of History in the University of Michigan 



«'Mauern seh' ich gesturzt, tind Mauem sell' icli erriclitet, 
Hier Gefangene, dort uuch der Gefangenen viel. 
1st vielleicht nur die \Yclt ein giosser Kerker ? Und frei ist 
Wohl der ToUe, der sich Ketten zu Kraiizen erkiest? " 





NEW YORK 
HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY 

1874 



Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1874, by 

HENRY HOLT, 
In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at "Washington. 



John F. Trow & Son, Printers, 
205-213 East i2TH St., New York. 

Maclauchlan, Stereotyper, 
"Y ^ 145 & 147 Mulberry St., near Grand, N. Y. 

V 



CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER PAGE 

I.— INTKODUCTORY 1 

II.— The Philosophers op the Revolution 33 

III. — The Politics op the Revolution 89 

IV. — The Rise op Napoleonism 137 

v.— The Restoration 217 

VI.— The Ministry op Guizot 253 

VII.— The Revolution op 1848 287 

VIII. — From the Second Republic to the Second Empire 353 
IX.— Universal Sufprage under the Second Empire . . . 399 

X.— The Decline and Fall 473 

Index 539 



AJSTDBEW D. WHITE, LL.D., 

Pbesident of Cornell University. 

My Dear Friend : 

I have long regarded it as the most fortunate circumstance of 
my collegiate life, that during the five years of your active service as 
Professor of History in the University of Michigan, I was in the same 
Institution, pursuing either under-graduate or post-graduate studies. 
To the inspiration of your lectures and your advice, more than to any 
other cause, I owe my fondness for historical study. I therefore ask 
for the privilege and the honor of connecting your name with the 
publication of this volume. In dedicating it to you, I have the 
double pleasure of doing it at the same time in grateful acknowledg- 
ment of personal benefits, and in hearty recognition of most valuable 
services in the cause of higher education. 

Heartily yours, 

0. K A. 



1 



PREFACE. 



IiT the winter of 1872-'3, I delivered a course of University 
Lectures on the Politics of France since the Great Kevolu- 
tion, and the studies begun in the preparation of those lec- 
tures have resulted in the present volume. 

At the time when the work was undertaken, there was 
everywhere prevalent a more or less general astonishment at 
the political weakness of France, as displayed after the out- 
break of the Franco-German War. In the course of lectures 
referred to, it was my effort to show that the present political 
character of the French people is the legitimate result of cer- 
tain doctrines and habits that have been taking root in the na- 
tion during the past hundred years. The same purpose has 
animated the preparation of the present volume. 

It seems to me that every genuine student of history must 
feel that there is no more potent political truth than this, that 
the present has its roots running far back into the past, and 
that it draws its life from the ideas and institutions that have 
gone before, just as certainly as the vegetation of to-day re- 
ceives its nourishment from the decaying remains of preceding 
organic life. I think that one of the most extraordinary ex- 
amples in illustration of this truth, is to be found in the mod- 
ern political life of France. Moreover, the lesson taught by 
this example is as valuable as it is extraordinary ; for it brings 
vividly before us the general truth, that while, on the one hand, 
the present is the child of the past, on the other, it is in its 
turn to be the parent of the future. 

What the political role of France is hereafter to be, it were 
idle to predict. I think every one that follows these pages 



Ylii PBEFAGE. 

through, and assents to the positions taken, will agree with me 
in the belief that the great present need of Prance is the de- 
struction of what I have called the revolutionary spirit ; and 
that if this destruction is impossible (as very likely it is), the 
need next in importance is the establishment of such a gov- 
ernment as will make the revolutionary spirit powerless. So 
long as this revolutionary spirit is dominant, every effort for 
the establishment of liberty is likely to result in anarchy ; and 
anarchy, it must be confessed, is worse than tyranny. Some- 
thing, whatever it is, that the nation can agree to for a per- 
manent form of government^ is, of all things, what is needed ; 
and I can but think that the positions taken by President 
MacMahon, to maintain his power at all hazards to the end of 
his legal term, are, in spite of many objectionable features, in 
the general interest of this necessary permanence. It is quite 
possible that this course will result in the accession of the 
Prince Imperial ; but that the nation would be content to 
accept permanently of anything better than some form of 
Napoleonism, bad as every form of it is, seems to be growing 
more and more improbable. 

Two of the chapters of this volume, the one on The Hise of 
N'apoleonism, and the one on Universal Suffrage under the 
Second Empire^ were published, in a somewhat abridged form, 
in the North Afmerican Heview in 1873. The courteous per- 
mission of Messrs. J. R. Osgood & Co. to republish them, is 
gratefully acknowledged. 

I would also express my gratitude to my friend and col- 
league, Professor Henry B. Hutchins, to whom I am indebted 
for valuable suggestions and assistance in the final preparation 
of the work for the press. 

C. K. A. 

University op Michigan, ) 
September, 1874. { 



INTRODUOTOEY. 



" All questions of political institutions are relative, not abso- 
lute, and different stages of human progress not only will have, 
but ought to have, different institutions : government is always 
either in the hands, or passing into the hands, of whatever is the 
strongest power in society ; and what this power is, does not 
depend on institutions, but institutions on it." — Mill^ Autobio- 
graphy, p. 162. 

" Colui die lascia quello che si fa per quello che si doveria fare, 
impara piuttosto la rovina che la perservazione sua." — Machi- 
avelli, 11 Principe, Cap. XY. 



T::m 



Democeact and Monarchy in France. 



CHAPTER I 



II^TRODUCTOEY. 



AT the beginning of the late Franco-German 
war, the prediction was more or less com- 
mon in France, in England, and in the United 
States, that the advance of Napoleon III. would 
be little less than a repetition of the Jena cam- 
paign, and that within sixty days the French 
eagles would be in possession of Berlin. It was 
within less than sixty days that the French armies 
were shattered in pieces, and the French emperor 
was a prisoner of war. How completely had men 
of ordinary political intelligence, almost every- 
where, been deceived in their estimation of the 
comparative strength of these two hostile nations ! 
As the war progressed, it became more and more 
certain that the government which, fifty years be- 
fore, had been one of the weakest, was now the 
strongest power in Europe, and that the one which, 
in the time of Napoleon I., had been the strongest, 



4 DEMOCRACY AND MOJS'ARCHT IN FRANCE 

was, under Napoleon III., apparently one of tlie 
■weakest. 

Now what is the history of this mutual ex- 
change of strength and weakness ? How does a 
nation become strong ? How does a nation lose 
the strength which it has once acquired ? 

These are questions which it would be presump- 
tive to attempt to answer in full ; and yet each of 
the nations to which I have just referred has char- 
acteristics which have exerted a definite and pow- 
erful influence, and which, I believe, may be 
studied with profit. Let us glance at some of the 
most prominent of them. 

The brilliant historian of the Eestoration begins 
his history wnth these words : — " I scarcely exceed 
the middle age of man, yet I have already lived 
under ten dominations, or ten different govern- 
ments, in France. Between infancy and maturity 
I have witnessed ten revolutions — ten cataracts, 
by which the spirit of modern liberty and the 
stationary or obstructive spirit have endeavored 
by turns to descend or to remount the declivity of 
revolutions." 

Had Lamartine written his history in 1873, 
instead of 1849, he might have made his figure 
still more impressive. During the eighty years 
and more v/hicli have elapsed since the outbreak 
of the Great Revolution, France has had no less 
than fifteen distinct governments, every one of 
which has been the direct or indirect result of 
revolution. The old monarchy was first succeeded 



INTBODUGTOBY. 5 

by a democratic monarcliy, and then by a pure 
ochlocracy. Following this there was a republic, 
which, in turn, gave way to the military govern- 
ment. This assumed three distinct forms : that of 
a republican consulate, that of a life consulate or 
elective Dionarchy, and that of a hereditary 
empire. The government of the Restoration 
followed, and w^as in turn overthrown to make way 
for the Napoleonic rule of the Hundred Days. 
The Bourbons were reinstated only to be driven 
from the stage by the House of Orleans in 1830 ; 
the Orleans Dynasty was displaced by a second 
republic; and this latter, after three years, gave 
way to a second consulate and a second empire. 
Then came the military rule of Gambetta, only to 
be followed by the provisional administrations of 
Thiers and McMahon. 

Each of these governments, moreover, presented 
to the nation a constitution formed in its own like- 
ness. The law of nature was generally reversed ; 
for in almost every instance the government, in- 
stead of being the child of the constitution, was 
its parent. To the democratic monarchy corre- 
sponds the constitution of the 14th of September, 
1791 ; to the republic, that of the 15th fructidor of 
the year III. ; to the limited consulate, that of the 
22d frimaire of the year VIII. ; to the consulate for 
life, the Senatus Consultum of the 16th thermidor 
of the year X. ; to the empire, that of the 14th 
florcal of the year XII. ; to the Eestoration, the 
Charter of June 14th, 1814; to the Hundred Days, 



Q DEMOCRACY AND MONARCHY IN FRANCE. 

the Acte Additionel of April 22cl, 1815 ; to the 
accession of the House of Orleans, that of the 9th 
of August, 1830 ; to the Revolution of 1848, that 
of September 4th of the same year; and to the 
second empire, the Senatns Consultum of January 
14th, 1852. To use a figure of the old Due de 
Broglie, some of these constitutions were still- 
born, others immediately slew the authors of their 
existence, others committed suicide ; and yet they 
all have a place in French history, not for their 
intrinsic merit but rather for the purpose of illus- 
trating that condition of a:ffairs which has made 
so much turbulence possible. 

Take another view of the same period. During 
the whole of this time the Great Revolution has 
been before the eyes or in the minds of the French 
people. It has been a sort of dream, a confused 
souvenir in the national memory. In every one of 
those revolutionary movements just named the 
people hoped to realize the full fruition of the 
ideas and principles on which that great upheaval 
was founded. But they have constantly failed to 
see more than one of the two sides of the Revolu- 
tion. That great event represents not only the 
destruction of the old monarchic despotism and 
the creation of armies whose victorious tread was 
heard in every quarter of Europe save in Eng- 
land ; it represented the creation of a general 
revolutionary spirit, which, if uncontrolled by pre- 
dominating elements of stability, is as much worse 
for a nation than absolutism, as anarchy is worse 



INTRODTJGTOBY. Y 

than tyranny. And wliat is the prevalence of a 
revolutionary spirit in a nation ? In answer it must 
be said that it is nothing less than the claim of the 
ignorant and the passionate to sit in authoritative 
judgment on every act of the government. Now 
such a claim must evidently be injurious just in 
propoi'tion to its strength. As a general truth, it 
may be said that ignorance, especially when united 
with strong passion, chafes under restraint and 
tries to resist it. But no government can long 
exist without imposing such restraint, and there- 
fore every good government is more or less un- 
popular, whenever it becomes necessary to control 
masses of people who are ignorant and whose 
ignorance is set on fire by passion. Nothing is 
more familiar to even the most cursory reader of 
history than the fact that some of the best of rulers 
have been least beloved, and that some of the 
worst have been most popular. The cause of this 
seeming paradox is in the fact that in turbulent 
times good government means restraint, while bad 
government means anarchy: in every nation, 
therefore, when the anarchic, or, what is the same 
thing, the revolutionary spirit is strong, any gov- 
ernment whatever that is w^orthy the name of gov- 
ernment will be more or less unpopular. Unite 
poverty with ignorance and passion, and then take 
away from them that respect for law and order 
which the revolutionary spirit always destroys, 
and you have the most difficult elements to con- 
trol that can ever tax the energies of any govern- 



8 DEMOGBAGT AND MONARCHY IN FRANCE, 

ment. Poverty, ignorance, and passion always 
abound ; when, therefore, the anarchic spirit is 
generally prevalent, good government is well-nigh, 
if not indeed quite, impossible. 

Now, looking at the matter historically, what 
has been the spirit of the leading minds in France 
since the Great Eevolation ? ISTot to enter at this 
time into details, it may be said that the prevailing 
spirit of what may be called the predominant 
elements of society has been one of chronic dis- 
content. I say clironic discontent, because the 
spirit to which I refer has not shown itself once 
or twice only, but has pervaded to a great ex- 
tent the whole course of French history ever since 
the beginning of the present century. Speaking 
historically, it may be said that whenever the 
nation has a republican form of government there 
is a large faction which not only |)ref ers monarchy, 
but, for the purpose of setting it up, is ready to 
overthrow the government which exists. When- 
ever in turn royalty assumes the rule, there is 
an equally powerful faction seeking opportunities 
to rise up for its overthrow. The incoming gov- 
ernments have generally been popular for a time ; 
but, if they have chanced to have in them the ele- 
ments of stability, their popularity has ceased, and 
passionate admiration has given way and been fol- 
lowed by equally passionate execration. The con- 
trolling elements in the nation, beset with the vision 
of 1789, have, in every new emergency, entrusted 
the power to that species of government which at 



INTBODTJCTORY. 9 

the moment gave most reason for tlie hope that it 
would apply and develop the principles of the 
Revolution. The result has been one of almost 
unvarying uniformity. The new government, either 
selfishly, or, as has sometimes occurred, in the real 
interests of the nation, has uniformly extended its 
powers, that is to say, has consolidated and per- 
fected the restoration of a substantial authority. 
At the expiration of ,a dozen years, more or less, 
the people find, or think they find, that they have 
been deceived ; discontent becomes rife ; some fac- 
tion or other gets the public ear ; the government 
is overturned, and instantly one of another kind 
is establislied, which only makes haste to imitate 
in its life and its death the example of its pre- 
decessor. In this vfay it has occurred that since 
1789 France has had ten or twelve different gov- 
ernments which have resulted simply from couj^s 
de /b7^(?(?— governments not a single one of which 
has been the spontaneous expression of the ' sober 
national will — ten or twelve governments which 
have been usurpations, and usurpations, too, in the 
precise and scientific sense of the term. Upon an 
average, once in seven or eight years, violence has 
overthrown the established authority and created 
in its place a new government, which was in turn to 
be destroyed by the very hand which had created 
it. No history has been so variable ; and yet its 
very variety has been monotonous. 

In order to appreciate the extent to which this 
substitution of force for law has been carried, one 



10 DEMOCRACY AND MONARCHY IN FRANCE. 

must consider not only the revolutions that have 
been successful, but also those that have failed. In 
addition to the events already enumerated, there 
have been no less than fifteen insurrections that 
have actually broken out, besides a still greater 
number that have been suppressed or prevented 
when on the point of committing the first overt 
act. Then, too, we are not to forget the violent 
measures committed either by the government or 
against it in disregard of the regular processes of 
law. Call to mind the massacres of September, 
the death of Louis XVI., the Reign of Terror, the 
death of the Due d'Enghien, the Massacres of 
1816, the 2d of December, 1851, the Massacres 
of the Commune in 1871, the Infernal Machine un- 
der the Consulate, the attempt of Louvel just after 
the Restoration, those of Alibaud, Fieschi, and 
others under Louis Philippe, and of Orsini under 
IN^apoleon III. These facts, taken together, are 
quite enough to justify the declaration of Janet, 
that for the last eighty years France seems to have 
been abandoned to the domination of Siva, that 
fierce god of destruction whom the people of India 
adoi'e and whom the mystic prophecy of Joseph 
de Maistre has made so real to the nation. One 
would not be much amiss in saying of France as 
Petrarch said of Verona, that, Acteon-like, she 
has been torn by her own dogs. 

It need, perhaps, hardly be said, and yet the 
fact is important, that such a tendency to tur- 
bulence is destructive of all healthy national 



INTR on UGTOR Y. \\ 

growtli. A nation, like an individual, tliat is al- 
ways changing its policy and its method of life, 
may properly be said to lose its personality. In 
France there has been so ready a disposition to 
brush aside old forms, often apparently for the 
simple reason that they are old, that one could 
almost believe that the highest ambition of the 
nation had been, at each new crisis, to forget the 
past and to begin the erection of the political 
structure completely anew. While the other great 
nations of Europe have been making slow but 
steady progress in paths that have been worn by 
years and centuries of historic sequence, the 
French have seemed to be chiefly desirous of break- 
ing out of the path which at the moment they 
happened to be in, to be ever on the watch for 
some means of overthrowing the existing govern- 
ment. There has been a manifest want of that 
continuity of political method which is essential 
to a complete development of national personality, 
and which can only result from an organic and his- 
toric growth. Hence, it has happened, that when- 
ever a new crisis has arisen, instead of attempting 
to harmonize the requirements of the time with 
the usages and traditions of tJie previous national 
life, the policy has been rather to ignore those 
traditions and to settle the difficulties at hand by 
tlie application of such abstract principles of poli- 
tic{d philosophy as at the moment happened to 
be dominant. 

INTow, this revolutionajy spirit, this spirit whose 



12 DEMOCRACY AND MONARCHY IN FRANCE. 

chief cliaracterlstic would seem to be that it is 
habitually and from principle fonder of that which 
it has not than of that which it has, is probably 
the most important fact of modern French history. 
As we proceed, I think it will become apparent 
that this revolutionary spirit is at once an impor- 
'"tant cause and an important result; a result of 
certain ideas which came to be more or less prev- 
alent at the time of the Ee volution, and a cause 
of much of that weakness which France revealed 
to the astonished world in the course of the late 
war. 

Now, in the way of contrast with these charac- 
teristics, let us look for a moment at those of Prus- 
sia. The Prussian government has always been of 
a severe type, and sometimes it has been grossly 
tyrannical ; and yet as a historical fact, the loyalty 
of the people to the reigning house and the pre- 
vailing methods of government, has been earnest 
and uninterrupted. During all the vicissitudes of 
its history, the government has retained its hold 
upon the people, and the people, by the exercise of 
a steady policy, have wrested from their rulers one 
right after another, until at last a parliamentary 
government, which is substantially free, has been 
established. Liberty in Prussia has been a growth 
rather than a creation, and a very slow growth at 
that. It began in an absolutism, in many respects 
like that of the Normans in England ; and the his- 
tory of England from the time of the Conquest to the 
present, has in Germany been more closely imitated 



INTRODUCTORY. ][3 

than that of any other nation. While France has 
been spending its energies in attempting to leap at 
a single bound into a political condition similar to 
that of England, Germany has been content to fol- 
low — if need be, afar off — evidently in a kind of 
all-sufficing conviction that a steady pace, even 
though a slow one, if in the right direction, would 
finally bring the nation to the desired goal. 

The spirit to which I refer finds good illustra- 
tion in the Prussian Eeform Bill of 1872. This 
important constitutional measure was designed to 
extend the sphere of local self-government in the 
rural districts. Having passed the Lower House, 
it was defeated by the peers ; whereupon the King, 
after the English method, appealed to the country 
by dissolving Parliament and ordering a new elec- 
tion. The bill was passed a second time by the 
representatives, but the House of Lords still held 
out. The King then resorted to his prerogative, 
and created a sufficient number of new peers to 
carry the measure in a constitutional manner. 
Thus the Prussian Eeform Bill of 1872 followed 
in the footsteps of the English Eeform of forty 
years before. 

But there are other characteristics of France 
and Germany which, by way of contrast, are 
scarcely less worthy of our attention. Foremost 
among them is the general question of education, 
— not merely the amount and quality of education 
afforded by the schools, but the whole of that sys- 
tem of preliminary training which these nations 



14 DEMOCRACY AND MONARCHY IN FRANCE. 

demand of a man before he is regarded as fitted 
for tlie bnsiness of life. 

We in America all admit, tliongli I think in a 
somewhat apathetic manner, that the safety of the 
nation depends in great measure upon education, 
as well as upon morality. We have devoted large 
energies to the education and elevation of the 
masses, but I fear that we have sometimes forgot- 
ten that the masses are always directed by the few, 
and that consequently it is no less essential that 
the few be in every way qualified for giving the 
best direction, than that the masses be qualified to 
recognize and accept such direction. We have 
heard much of generous legislative provisions for 
education in the United States, and j)erhaps on the 
whole the credit which our country has received, 
has been fairly earned ; and yet it has to be ad- 
mitted, that, while millions have been bestowed on 
our common schools, our higher institutions of 
learning have received next to nothing. While our 
common schools have been amply provided for, the 
most of our colleges and universities have been left 
as beggars, solely dependent upon the precarious 
benefactions of private generosity. If, here and 
there, an institution has gained a respectable stand- 
ing v^ithout the aid of such private munificence, it 
has been the result of exceptional good manage- 
ment on the part of its board of control, rather 
than of any legislative liberality. '^' The conse- 

* Many of those wlio talk mucli of the liberality with which our 
higher institutions are endowed by private individuals, seem to be quite 



INTROBUGTORT. 15 

quence of this general policy has been what one 
would have been led to anticipate. While we 
have in our various professions large numbers of 
men of respectable culture, I fear it must be said 
we have, as compared with the larger European 
nations, very few men of what may be called great 
culture. When difficult problems of state are to 
be solved, therefore, they are always more or less 
liable to fall into the hands of men whose qualifi- 
cations, to speak within bounds, entitle them to no 
very high respect. 

There is in our country another tendency on 
which the recent history of France and Germany 
throws a flood of light. I refer to a general in- 
clination to rush prematurely into the active and 
responsible work of life. This comes in great part 

ignorant of the amounts expended on similar institutions in otlier coun- 
tries. Too mucli in praise of such generosity cannot be said ; and yet the 
fact remains that the whole amount of money furnished to our colleges 
and universities is lamentably meagre. This becomes strikingly ap- 
parent when the incomes of our institutions are compared with those 
of other countries. The Physiological Laboratory alone at Leipsic has 
an income of $40,000, and admits to its privileges but twelve students. 
The Natural History Department of the British Museum has an annual 
income of $100,000. The Zoological Society of London (which attends 
to the keeping of live animals solely for the purpose of studying their 
peculiarities) has an income varying from $100,000 to $125,000. The 
Kew Garden in London (which does a similar work for botany) has also 
$100,000 annually. The Zodlogical Society at Amsterdam expends 
$50,000; the Zoological Gardens at Hamburg, $30,000; the Berlin 
Aquarium (devoted to aquatic animals only), $50,000; the Jardin des 
Plantes, $200,000 ; the Museum at Edinburgh, $50,000 ; the College of 
Surgery at London (exclusively devoted to human and comparative an- 
atomy), $00,000; the Imperial Geological Institute in Vienna, $40,000. 
These examples, purposely taken for better illustration, from a single 
department of liberal culture, might be indefinitely extended. 



IQ DEMOCRACY AND MONARCHY IN FRANCE. 

from those popular opinions concerning higher ed- 
ucation to which I have alluded. There is a law 
that is more unchangeable than the laws of the 
Medes and the Persians ; it is the law which es- 
tablishes the correspondence of demand and sup- 
ply. So long as men of small culture and men of 
no culture find easy access to the high, if not the 
highest, political stations in the gift of society, we 
ma^r be sure that the men knocking most vigorously 
at our political doors will be our political char- 
latans. It is greatly to be feared that until a 
more healthy and enlightened public opinion on 
this subject shall come to prevail, a change for the 
better will be looked for in vain. When such men 
come to feel that for them there is no high place 
of political honor, the preparation of those who 
aspire to public life will be more complete and 
more satisfactory. 

I wish not to be misunderstood. It is one of the 
glories of our country, that it affords rare opportu- 
nities for the encouragement of those who would 
rise from obscurity to honor. This we have heard 
at least as often as every Fourth of July. I am 
by no means disposed to question the truth of the 
assertion. The question of importance, however, 
is not whether men can rise, or whether they will 
attempt to rise ; it is rather at what level will they 
be content to stop. I think no one can compare 
the average statesman of to-day with the man of 
similar rank seventy-five years ago, without an op- 
pressive sense of the political degeneracy that has 



INTRODUGTOBT. 17 

taken place. The generation wliicli framed the 
Constitution and wrote the Federalist, has h.ad no 
political successor. Surely, the reason is not that 
men have had fewer opportunities as time has 
progressed ! Jeiferson was a frontiersman, whose 
wife, at the time of their marriage, as Mr. Parton 
assures us, could only reach his log-house on horse- 
back ; and, yet, when he took his seat in the Con- 
tinental Congress, though far from being the most 
learned man there, he was a proficient naturalist, 
a mathematician able to calculate an eclipse, and 
a master of four languages.'^ 

If public opinion would to-day be content with 
nothing short of the highest moral and intellectual 
attainments, it is certain that within a few years 
the preparation of those who aspire to public life 
Yv^ould be of a far higher order. 

I^ow, in reo^ard to the o^eneral worth of this care- 

* It is a great mistake to suppose ttiat self-made men are in any sense 
peculiar to our own country. There is not a nation in Western Europe 
that has not been largely ruled by such men during the past three hun- 
dred years. It was but the other day that the English papers told us 
how Eichard Bethell went to college a poor boy ; how from the age of 
seventeen he supported himself ; hovt^ he rose to the highest ]30sition 
in the legal profession, and finally how, as Lord Chancellor, presiding 
over the entire nobility of G-rcat Britain, he died a peer of the realm. 
The case of Lord Tcnterden is another example to illustrate the same 
fact. Beginning life as the son of a country barber, without friends or 
influence to aid him, he ended it as Lord Chief Justice. For any who 
may think that with the aid of party machinery all these things were 
and arc possible, it needs perhaps to be said, that, when Tenterden 
was offered the position of King's Counsel, he declined it from distrust 
of his own ability, and that finally, he was taken from his life of pa- 
tient and unassuming labor and raised to the bench by his political op- 
ponents. 



Ig DEMOCRACY AND MONARCHY IN FRANCE. 

ful preliminary training, tliere comes an occasional 
lesson Avliicli we do well to heed. The war of the 
Rebellion was a case in point. It is generally re- 
membered that early in the struggle a hue and cry 
was raised against our Military Academy at West 
Point. Those who predicted that the war would ' 
be terminated in a few months found, at the close 
of the first year, that the end was apparently as 
far off as ever. It is singular that so many failed 
to appreciate the magnitude of the struggle. It 
should have been generally foreseen that the South, 
with the advantage, not only of ample preparation, 
but also of a defensive policy, would be able to of- 
fer a resolute and a protracted resistance. Those 
political sages and editorial generals who found 
their predictions disappointed, fell to throwing the 
blame upon our military officers ; and when one 
new man after another was raised to the head of 
the army, only to disappoint the nation, and be 
returned into obscurity, the outcry, which at first 
had been turned against individuals only, was di- 
rected against the whole chiss. Some of the most 
influential journals in the country appear to have 
seriously attempted in 1862 and '63 to make the 
nation believe that the man without the training 
afforded by West Point was likely to be a better 
soldier and a better general than the man with that 
.training. In consequence of this absurdity, we had 
our era of civilian generals. Lucidly, however, it 
took but a short time to satisfy even the most un- 
reasonable, and our civilians gave way to men who 



INTB OB UGTOB Y. X 9 

seemed divinely called to the double work of put- 
ting an end to the war, and of showing to the 
American people that, if they have a special and 
difficult work to do, that work is likely to be best 
done by men who have received the most thorough 
training for it. When it turned out that Grant 
and Sherman and Sheridan and Thomas and 
Meade and the other great soldiers, South as well 
as North, were men who had all submitted to the 
ligors of a military training, there was no one 
found bold enough to renew the proposition to 
abolish our national Military Academy. It was 
apparent to everybody, that we must either aban- . 
don all thought of war in future, or we must sus- 
tain and enlarge our school for the education of 
officers. 

But since the close of our war there has been 
brought to the attention of the world a far more 
luminous example in illustration of the same gen- 
eral truth. I refer, of course, to the Franco-Ger- 
man War of 1870. The results of that contest 
have been so momentous in shaping the subsequent 
history of the nations involved, that they are apt to 
overshadow all other considerations, if indeed they 
do not completely monopolize our attention. There 
is another fact, however, which, to the person study- 
ing that struggle, is even more important. I refer 
to the peculiar character of the war as a result rather 
than as a cause ; to those systems of general training 
which gave to the Germans, on the one hand, both 
overwhelming strength and masterly skill, and to 



OQ DEMOGBAGY AND MONABGHT IN FBANGE. 



the French, on the other, not only weakness in the 
field but also corruption and imbecility in the Cab- 
inet. Nothing can be more iniportant to the stu- 
dent than a contemplation of these facts as results 
of certain causes. Let us look at them for a mo- 
ment, beginning with Germany. 

Whence came all this strength and all this skill ? 
Glance, for a moment, at their growth as a his- 
torical fact. At the beginning of this century 
Prussia, though in name a kingdom, in fact, was 
hardly more than a province. No nation in mod- 
ern times has been more completely crushed and 
overidden than was Prussia in her wars with 
Napoleon I. After the battle of Jena, she was 
obliged to surrender nearly half of all her territory 
and reduce her army to forty thousand men. But 
even in disaster, the characteristics of the nation 
and the people were distinctly visible. There was 
no blustering, or defying, or court-marti ailing of 
officers, or repudiating of monarchs ; but instead, 
an earnest endeavor to learn the causes of the 
misfortune, and to remove them as speedily as 
possible. Through the eif orts of Stein and Scharn- 
liorst and their coadjutors a thorough transforma- 
tion was wrought, not only in the army, but also 
in the civil service and in the system of education. 

First of all, it was maintained that as the army 
was to exist for the good of all and for the 23rotec- 
tion of all, its burdens ought to fall upon all; 
these burdens, moreover, wei'e interpreted to mean 
not only taxes, but actual service. From the 



INTRODUCTORY. 21 

king's sons, therefore, down to the sons of the poor- 
est peasant, every man of able body was to be 
trained in the use of arms. The government took 
every young man, whether his rank v^^ere high or 
low, straightened him up, pulled back his shoul- 
ders, put a musket into his hands, required of him 
three or four hours of daily military service for a 
number of years — in a word, trained him for 
military work. 

Then, too, as all classes, without excepting even 
the king's sons, were obliged to begin service in 
the ranks, the uniform of the private soldier was 
no badge of dishonor. It indicated neither the 
existence of social rank, nor the want of it. The 
Prussian army thus became a complete reproduc- 
tion of Prussian culture. In any one of the Prus- 
sian universities scores of private uniforms were 
to be seen on the lecture-room benches — uniforms 
belonging to young men who, after doing three or 
four hours of guard or patrol duty, were carrying 
on those university studies which were interrupted 
when the time came for them to enter military 
service. When a war broke out the university 
soldiers took the field with the others. It was 
related by an English correspondent who marched 
with a company of soldiers to Sadowa, that as the 
group next him swung along in their ill-fitting 
uniforms with seventy I'ounds of amnuinitioii, they 
relieved the tedium of the march by discussing in 
their regular orcku* the different dialogues of 
Plato. We all rcjuiember the sensation that was 



22 DEMOCRACY AND MONARCHY IN FRANCE. 

produced in the war of 1870, when the famous 
Kutschhe Lied^ as an amusement merely of philo- 
logical students in the army, was published in 
thirty-two different languages. These incidents 
amply illustrate the fact that the Prussian army 
embodies all the characteristics of Prussian cult- 
ure. When a war breaks out the German throws 
down his pen, or his book, or his saw, or his hoe, 
and takes up his musket ; in the use of which he 
has already had the most thorough training. The 
excellences and defects, therefore, of the German 
army are precisely those of the community at 
large, and, so far as I know, for the first time in 
history, we have a real example of the worth of 
mind and training in fitting men for carrying on 
the work of destruction. And what is the result % 
It is that you may look through the pages in his- 
tory in vain to find an army out of which it was 
possible to get so much fighting, and marching, 
and indeed dying, as was got out of the German 
army from the moment it fired its first shot across 
the Rhine. It has been well said that there are 
some heights of devotion that are beyond the 
reach of ordinary troops. Ordinary men may be 
easily led under an excitement to lay down their 
lives recklessly ; but of such a quality of soldiers 
only a certain amount can be deliberately and 
openly exacted. An able and a careful writer on 
the war has declared that if a Prussian com- 
mander found it necessary to have the cost of an 
assault fall on a single regiment, he had no difii- 



INTR OB UGTOB Y. 2 3 

culty in getting it to marcli to certain destruction, 
not blindly or hilariously like madmen, but 
calmly and deliberately like men who had made 
up their minds that it was their business to die; 
and that it was equally important that they should 
not get themselves killed one moment earlier than 
was necessary, nor one moment later. 

Moreover, to this statement it ought to be 
added that the deliberate heroism of the troops 
was even less conspicuous than that general intelli- 
gence, that omnipresent promptitude, that universal 
^''hnowinghoio to do it^^ which everywhere charac- 
terized their movements. This peculiar quality be- 
came note-worthy even before the troops were in 
the field. Less than a week was required after 
the declaration of war for the mobilization of the 
army. Dr. Kapp wrote to the Nation that in 
passing from Cologne to Berlin he counted sixty- 
three military trains, not a single one of which 
was behind time. The whole of the Second Army 
Corps of 150,000 men was transferred from Berlin 
to Neukirchen, more than four hundred miles, in 
fifty hours ; and every one of the hundred and fifty 
trains arrived punctually to the minute. 

This spirit of punctuality and obedience was 
everywhere manifest during the movements in the 
field. From the beginning to the end of the war, 
while their enemies were committino; blunder after 
blunder, not a German corps arrived at its destina- 
tion too late to accomplish its purpose. 

Now, all these achievements are not to be con- 



24 DEMOCRACY AND MONARCHY IN FRANCE. 

sidered the mere result of a levy en masse under 
the command of a great military genius ; they are 
rather an application to military affairs of the 
whole intelligence of a nation of extraordinary 
mental and moral culture. They are the result of 
no qualities that can be drilled into an army in a 
month or a year ; but of those which are inter- 
woven with the very tissue of the nation's thinking 
and feeling. They came not from the genius of a 
few alone ; but rather from the genius of the few, 
united with the superior training and culture of 
the many. They are the fruit of an application to 
military affairs of the actual cliaracter of the na- 
tion. 

But what is this Prussian culture of which I 
speak ? In general, it may be answered that it 
consists of those attainments which are acquired 
by the universal adoption of the truth, that 
whether you want a man for war or for peace, for 
a profession or for a trade, there is no way in 
which you can make so much of him as by train- 
ing him, and training him not in parts, but as a 
whole ; and furthermore, that in all the contests 
of life, other things being equal, the trained men 
are sure to attain the highest success. On this 
theory, not as a simple sentiment, but as a solid 
foundation on which to rear the whole fabric of 
society, the law-makers of Germany went to work. 

First of all, they said to every parent : '' You 
must have every child of yours in school from the 
age of six to the age of fourteen ; to neglect this 



INTMODUCTOBY. 25 

obligation is a crime against the state, and will 
be punished by law." Then to the child they said : 
*' Whatever business or profession you desire to fol- 
low in life, for that you must thoroughly fit your- 
self, either as an apprentice, or as a professional 
student." And this was no mere vague generality. 
It was saying to the child : ^' If you would be a 
teacher of common schools, you must not only 
have a good common-school education, but you 
must also serve an apprenticeship of three years in 
a normal school, whose business is, not to teach, but 
to teach how to teach." It was saying to him : 
^' If you aspire to any position as teacher in a gym- 
nasium or university, there is one condition with 
which you must first of all comply. You must 
spend eight or nine years in a gymnasium" (equiv- 
alent to eight or nine years in an American acad- 
emy and an American college) ; " after which, you 
must devote at least three years to the study of 
your profession in a university." They said to 
hhii, " Without those twelve years of preliminary 
training, eight or nine of which are collegiate, and 
three or four of which are professional, you can 
receive no degree, and until you have received a 
degree, you can collect no fee for legal advice ; 3^ou 
can write no prescription ; you can have no place 
as instructor in the smallest gymnasium in the 
land." In a word, all the professions were, and are, 
closed, except to men of such culture as comes from 
a complete course of collegiate and professional 
training. 

2 



26 JDEMOGBAGT AND MONAHGIIY IN FRANGE. 

Now of all tliese exactions, what is tlie result ? 
Undoubtedly a considerable number of men are 
kept from the professions who would, in spite of 
any deficiencies in their early training, have risen 
to positions of honor and influence. And yet it 
must not be f oi'gotten that although such men may 
be lost to a given profession, they are not, by the 
fact of their exclusion from that profession, lost to 
society as a whole. The same energy and ability 
which would have carried them over high obsta- 
cles, in case they had been permitted to make the 
attempt, is likely to achieve a similar success in 
some other calling. It is indeed doubtful whether 
the world will ever be the loser from the fact that 
any given man, though even a genius, is prevented 
by law from taking a short cut to either of the 
professions. In case of such prohibition, he is 
likely either to follow the prescribed course, or be 
equally useful in another vocation. But even if it 
were to be admitted that in some instances such a 
law imposes a harmful restraint, it would still re- 
main true, that its general influence is vastly to 
elevate the respective trades and professions. It in- 
terferes often vv^ith the wishes, and sometimes even 
with the interests, of individuals ; but it contributes 
to the v/elfare of society as a whole. While it 
makes it impossible for the individual to collect a 
fee which he has not fairly earned, it protects 
society from a vast amount of sheer imj)ositions. 

In no country have these good results been so 
conspicuous as in Germany. They now show 



1 



INTB OD UCTOM Y. 27 

themselves as the fruit of a very long continued 
policy, and are not to be misunderstood. It is a 
matter of universal notoriety that the professional 
men of Germany in all positions are great scholars 
and powerful thinkers. There are no fields of 
knowledge which they are not among the first 
to explore ; no heights of speculation which they 
do not climb ; no depths of reason which they do 
not penetrate ; no hard problem over which they 
do not faithfully toil. Their keenness is equal to 
their comprehensiveness ; and their love of what 
is thorough is only exceeded by their hatred of 
what is sham and slipshod. In the universities 
their attainments excite the admiration of students 
from all other countries, if indeed they do not fill 
them with despair. Their devotion to the work in 
hand is equally remarkable, whether they dedicate 
their energies to the genealogy of words, or the 
chemical analysis of fixed stars. In the whole 
range of liberal culture, it w^ould, jDerhaps, not be 
.easy to name a single branch of study in the pros- 
ecution of w^hich there might not be found some 
German who, by the general consent of his profes- 
sion, would be regarded as the foremost authority 
of his time. Professor Seeley, of the University 
of Cambridge, admitted and expressed it all, when 
lie sweepingly said : " As a rule, good books are 
in German." 

Now these are the results of that severe habit of 
training to which I have referred — a habit which 
lays its commands on all the vocations and em- 



28 DEMOCRACY AND IIONARGHY IN FRANCE. 

ploymeiits of German society. It has not only 
made the little province into a duchy, the duchy 
into a kingdom, and the kingdom into the foremost 
power of Europe ; but it has made such a race of 
scholars and thinkers, that if one desires the most 
complete and exact information on any subject 
whatever, one is likely to find it nowhere but in 
some one of the German universities. The German 
system of education, as a mere element of national 
strength, it is, perhaps, impossible to over-estimate. 

Now, in the way of contrast, let us look for a 
moment at the system of education in France 
Much might be said in regard to the kind of in- 
struction given as compared with that of the Ger- 
man schools, but it will be enough in this connec- 
tion to refer to a few facts as historically revealed. 

When the great revolution broke out in France 
the nation had about 25,000,000 inhabitants. 
There were in the country fiYQ hundred and sixty- 
two colleges ^ or schools. where classical instruction 
was given. In these schools there were 72,747 
pupils. It was in these schools that young men 
of every rank and for every career had been trained. 
Here had been formed in the seventeenth and eigh- 
teenth centuries, that varied society of France, whose 
progress in all the paths of civilization, save the 
political and the religious, was so rapid and so bril- 
liant. But the Revolution swept all these institu- 
tions away. The professors were dispersed ; the 
property was sold. When, at the close of the revolu- 
tionary regime^ tnen began to look about for means 



INTnODUGTOBT. 29 

of reviving tlie schools, it was found tliat the cor- 
porations devoted to public instruction had ceased 
to exist, and that the ancient endowments had 
been scattered to the winds. 

It was not long before the painful consequences 
of this misfortune made themselves felt. It was 
found that with the means the desire had disap- 
peared also. Dr. Chalmers once eloquently said 
that there is this difference between the material 
and the intellectual v\^ants of man : while the for- 
mer pursue their satisfaction with unwearied ardor, 
the latter, if left to themselves, become feeble and 
torpid. The hungry man struggles to procure for 
himself food by any effort and at any risk ; while 
the man who has no moral or intellectual culture 
is content to do without it ; and the more complete 
his intellectual destitution, the less sensible is he 
of his want. So it was in France. When the 
means of giatifying the intellectual appetite was 
removed, the cravings of that appetite came soon 
to be no longer felt. The few private schools that 
were established presented no allurements save to 
tlie rich and the moi'e ambitious. The great mass 
of the French people, for moi'e than forty years 
before Louis Philippe ascended the throne, had no 
educational privileges whatever, and, worse than all, 
they came more and more to have no intellectual 
appetites. Under the reign of Louis Philippe, it 
is true, great efforts were made to create a favor- 
able reaction. The department of Public Instruc- 
tion was placed in the hands of men like Guizot 



30 DEMOGBAGY AND MONARCHY IN FBANCE. 

and Villemain ; and under tlie guidance of their 
genius a great cliange was made for the better. 
And yet, after all their efforts, continued through 
eighteen years, the people in 1848 had so imper- 
fectly recovered from the loss of their schools, that 
with a population of 36,000,000 they had in their ' 
high schools only 69,341 pupils, whereas, in 1789, 
with a population of only 25,000,000, iho. number 
of pupils had been as high as 72,747. In other 
words, at the outbreak of the Revolution the pro- 
portion of the pupils in the colleges to all the in- 
habitants of the country, was one in every three 
hundred and forty- two; while in 1848 the propor- 
tion was only one in eveTj five hundred and nine- 
teen. The significance of these facts, in themselves 
considered, is perhaps striking enough, and yet 
their full force will be felt only when we remem- 
ber the educational tendency of the age. While 
all the other nations of Europe have been mak- 
ing great advances toward more light and more 
culture, France has been actually retreating into 
intellectual darkness. That there are in France 
great scholars of which the nation has just reason to 
be proud, there is, of course, no disposition to 
deny, for any such denial would be untruthful 
and absurd ; but to say that the general culture 
wdiich comes from a severe training in the schools 
is a characteristic of the French people of the pres- 
ent generation, would be a declaration as much at 
variance with the statistics as it would be contrary 
to the results of all discriminatino; observation. 



INTBOBJJGTOnr, 31 

Partliermore, on this subject there is no lack of 
positive evidence. The report of the Fi'ench Min- 
ister of Public Instruction for 1865 shows that of 
those conscripted in the preceding year 30.40 per 
cent, could neither read nor write. "^ From a simi- 
lar report made to the Prussian Parliament in 
1869, it is found that of the soldiers enrolled, not 
simply in Prussia, but in all Germany, during the 
previous year, the number of those in a similar con- 
dition of illiteracy amounted to but 3.80 per cent., 
while in the kingdom of Saxony the proportion 
was only seventeen one hundredths of one per cent.f 
It is not necessary, in this connection, to say more 
in detail concerning the condition of the masses of 
the French people. It is enough that we have the 
most important elements of the political problem 
before us. Thirty per cent, of all the male inhab- 
itants of France are unable to read ; universal suf- 
frage so iirmly established that its expediency is 
no longer a practical question ; a revolutionary 
spirit that is permanently content with nothing, — 

* M. Taine in his work on Universal Suffrage, has put the propor- 
tion of the illiterate still higher. He says that of every hundred 
persons of the male sex there are thirty-nine who cannot read or write ; 
and that, as the illiterate belong almost exclusively to the rural popula- 
tion, it may fairly be estimated, that of the rural voters fully one-half 
are destitute of even the rudiments of an elementary education. Dit 
Suffrage Universel et de la MoMiere de i)otei\ p, 16. 

f In comparison with these figures it is interesting to note the pro- 
portion of illiteracy in the United States. According to the Report of 
the Commissioner of Education for 1872, p. 9G3, the proportion of illit- 
erate male adults for the country is 17.15. In South Carolina it 
ranges as high as 50.28 ; while in New Hampshire it is only 3.73. In 
Massachusetts it is 7.97 ; in Michigan, 6.04. 



32 JDEMOCBAGT AND MONARCHY IN FRANCE. 

these are the factors wliicli the reader should keep 
constantly in mind. The growth of this revolu- 
tionary spirit, and its method of dealing with the 
hard political questions that from time to time 
present themselves, will constitute not the least 
important part of our study. As we progress, I 
think we shall see how the political ideas engen- 
dered by the Revolution could only be salutaiy in 
case of general intelligence and virtue ; how, in the 
absence of these, the lowest classes in the exercise 
of their newly acquired privileges took possession 
of the nation, and then turned it over without guar- 
antee into the hands of an unscrupulous despotism ; 
how the shocked and indignant virtue of the na- 
tion called for a return to the regime of jDeace and 
development ; how the government in the hands of 
the bourgeoisie was enabled for a time to control 
the masses, which were at once brutalized by igno- 
rance and inflamed by ideas inherited from the 
Revolution ; how, in 1848, the masses, a second 
time, took possession of the government, only to 
pave the way for a second despotism ; how, by the 
suffrage of ignorance and vice the Napoleonic dyn- 
asty was restored and confirmed ; how, by a net- 
work of frauds and deceptions, the people were 
entrapped into the belief that they were enjoying 
a representative government, while in fact they 
were living m:ider the most dangerous form of des- 
potism ; and, finally, how, when the moment of se- 
vei*e trial came, the political fabric crumbled into 
dust, as if for a warning to the nations. 



THE PHILOSOPHEES OF THE REVOLU- 
TION. 



" French Philosophism lias arisen ; in which little word how 
much do we include I Here, indeed, lies properly the cardinal 
symptom of the whole widespread malady. Faith is gone 
out ; scepticism has come in. Evil abounds and accumulates ; 
no man has faith to withstand it, to amend it, to begin by 
amending himself; it must even go on accumulating." — Carlyle, 
French Revolution^ vol. I. p. 13. 

'* If I were to give a Scriptural genealogy of our modern 
popular writers, I should say that Rousseau lived twenty years, 
and then begat Bernardin de St. Pierre ; that Bernardin de St. 
Pierre lived twenty years, and then begat Chateaubriand ; that 
Chateaubriand lived twenty years, and then begat Victor Hugo ; 
and that Victor Hugo, being tempted of the devil, is begetting 
every day." — De Tocqueville, Memoir and Remains, vol. II. p. 
116. 

2* 



CHAPTER II. 

THE PHILOSOPHEES OF THE EEYOLUTIOlSr. 

THE liistory of France during the present cen- 
tury is tlie heritage of the Revolution and 
of the causes by which the Revolution Avas pro- 
duced. Let us look briefly at some of those causes, 
and then at some of the ideas which in the course 
of the Revolution came to prevail. 

Previous to the reign of Louis XIV., the political 
elements of French society had settled into three 
distinct divisions more or less antagonistic to one 
another. These elements — the crown, the nobility, 
and the people — struggled each for an ascendency 
over the other two. The people had little con- 
sciousness of political rights, little political educa- 
tion, and little interest in the general aif airs of the 
country; they w^ere, therefore, in no condition to 
wage an equal political warfare wdth their enemies. 
Nothing but an alliance with either the crown or 
the nobility could insure their political safety. 

In Germany the people were becoming more 
and more allied in their interests with the no- 
bility, so that the latter were becoming strong 
enough to defy the power of the Emperor. The 
consequence of this alliance was that the petty 
governments into which the Empire v/as divided 



36 DEMOCRACY AITB 3I0NARGIIY IN FRANCE. 

secured for themselves a constantly increasing 
power, and were finally enabled to gain a complete 
independence.'"' 

A similar alliance took place in England under 
King John. The nobles were able to enlist the 
sympathies and the support of the people in theii 
cause against the King, and the result was the 
Great Charter and the Constitutional Liberty 
wdiich England has since enjoyed. 

In France, however, the alliance was of a differ- 
ent nature. Under the feudal system there sprang 
up between the nobles and the people a violent 
antagonism, and this was soon followed by a similar 
hostility between nobility and royalty. The people 
found that they had no guarantees with which to 
protect themselves against the rapacity of the feudal 
lords so long as the feudal relations were main- 
tained, and consequently they everywhere attempt- 
ed to find relief in revolt. Koughly stated, the re- 
sult of the general attempt to throw off the feudal 
yoke was the system of free cities. The nobles 
for their part, saw that in their feudal castles they 
could easily and successfully defy royalty ; and 
moved by the same ambition that inspired their 
brethren across the Rhino, they attempted to 
establish a similar indej)endence. But they soon 
discovered that they were between two fires. The 
Idngs on the one side and the people on the other 
recognized the common interests of their cause. 

* For a good i)ortrayal of the influences which IpcI to this separation 
of the German States, v. IMussci'^s Deutsche Gcschichte, Einleitiing. 



THE PHIL080PIIEB8 OF THE BEVOLTJTION. 37 

It came about at lengtli that a more or less effec- 
tive alliance was established. From the death of 
Charles VII., in 1461, to the accession of Louis 
XIV., in 1643, the internal history of France was 
little more than one long war between the nobles and 
their remaining feudal adherents,, on the one hand, 
and the kings, supported with more or less fidelity 
by the people, on the other. Recall to mind the 
gibbet and cages of Louis XL, the campaigns and 
executions of Hemy IV., the treatment of the Par- 
liament of Paris and of the nobles in revolt by 
Kichelieu — wherever one looks, one sees that the 
heaviest blows and the sharpest thrusts of royalty 
were directed against the noble s^ and that at the 
same time it was in the hings that the people 
found their firmest allies and their best friends. It 
must not be supposed that the kings were desirous 
of securing the liberties of the jjeople; such was 
certainly not the fact. They simply found the 
people the most convenient weapons with which to 
fight their most formidable enemies. 

In the reign of Louis XIV., however, much of 
this was changed. The nobles had been so weak- 
ened by the blows of Eichelieu and the craft of 
Mazarin that they had no longer hope of securing 
independence, and no longer power to make them- 
selves feared. But they were still gentlemen of 
elegance, and could adorn a court even if they 
could not win a battle. The King was ambitious 
to gather from every source, witliin and without 
the realm, all that Avould add to tlie G:race and the 



38 BEMOGBAGY AND 3I0WARGIIY m FRANCE. 

distinction of liis reign. Poets and orators and 
artists made haste to devote tliemselves to his ser- 
vice. There were no heights of adulation to 
which they did not climb — no depths of mire in 
which they did not bedraggle the garments of 
their genius. When all the wits of that age of 
wit were burning incense and singing pgeans to 
le grand nionarque^ was there any reason why the 
nobles, nov/ that their old j)osition was hopeless- 
ly gone, should stubbornly maintain an obscure 
silence? The King easily won them over to his 
pov/er. Elegant lords and ladies were now flitting 
about in the gay salons of Paris and Versailles ; 
and the alliance of royalty and nobility was com- 
plete. 

Meantime, alas for the common people ! The 
wars of the Alliance and the Succession desolated 
the land. The industries were crippled. Taxa- 
tion, from which the noljility and the clergy were 
practically exempt, was multiplied, until increased 
taxation brought no increase of revenue. As had 
occurred at Rome after the last Punic war, so now 
in France, the rich and the poor were divided 
asunder, and the dividing line, which at first vv^as 
mei'ely an imaginary thing, became a chasm, and 
finally a gj-eat gulf v>^hich no man could ci'oss. As 
the I'ich became richer, and the ]_)oor poorer, the 
class of yeomanry, — that very class which cariied 
the Roman Eagles to the Tyne and the Euphrates, 
which, under Edward III. of England, had threat- 
ened to make all France suljject to the English 



THE PHILOSOPHERS OF THE REVOLUTION. 39 

crown, and which, under the white plume of Na- 
varre had reduced to allegiance all the enemies of 
the French crown, — that great middle class which is 
the bone and sinew of every robust nation, in the 
age of Louis XIV. and Louis XV. practically ceased 
to exist. France was hopelessly divided into two 
parts, one of which had its type in the splendors of 
the court, and the other in the squalor of the 
hoveL The whole system tended to endow the 
upper class with all privileges without exacting 
any corresponding service in return ; to exhaust 
the lower classes by taxation without conferring 
upon them any corresponding political rights.'^' 
Two-thirds of the soil was owned by a few nobles 
and great land-holders, while the remaining 
one-third was divided among nearly 4,000,000 
peasant owners. From so small a held as each of 
tliese possessed, it was impossible to gain a living. 
Millions of the people came to have no other food 
than bread, with a little lard and gruel. f 

* The contrast between tlie luxury of the rich and the indigence of the 
populace is placed in a glowing light by Von Sybel in his Oeschichte 
der Eranzusische Revolution. Among other interesting things, he shows 
that in the ministry of Colbert, while only 60,400 hands were employed 
in the manufacture of woollens, 17,300 were employed in the manufac- 
ture of laces ; and that while the manufacture of soa]) was of the value 
of only 18,000,000 francs a year, that of hair powder was no less than 
24,000,000. 

f Historians of this period have often conveyed the impression, if 
they havo not directly asserted, that one of the most formidable diffi- 
culties in France grew out of the fact that the laws were exclusively in 
the hands of the nobilifcy and the church. It is certain, however, that 
such was not the fact. The best of all authorities on the subject, 
Arthur Young, assures us that about a third of the land was in the pes- 



40 DEMOCRACY AND MONABCHY IN FRANCE. 

It is not necessary to attempt the portrayal of 
the wrongs of the French people during that cruel 
eighteenth century ; it is enough for my purpose to 
indicate what I believe to be their leading cause ; 
and perhaps to add that the union of royalty and 
aristocracy continued through a full century, and 
that during all that period the people were ground 
as between the upper and the nether millstone. 
Buckle has remarked, apparently not without rea- 
son, that if ever there existed a government that 
was radically and inherently bad, it was the gov- 
ernment of France in the eighteenth century, and 
that the delay of the Revolution is one of the most 
striking proofs afforded by history of the force of 
established habit and of the tenacity with which 
humanity clings to old associations. 

While the mass of the people, thus despoiled 
and enslaved, were accumulating a stock of bitter- 
ness and ferocity to be poured out on some future 
day of national reckoning, there v^ere other pow- 
ers at work which it is necessary now to con- 
sider. I mean the principal currents of national 
thought, — that peculiar literature of the time 
which made upon the nation so deep and so per- 
manent an impression. 

To the writers of that age it is difficult and per- 

session of small proprietors. Turgot himself plainly showed that 
one of their most serious difficulties arose, not from the fact that their 
lands were undivided, but from the fact that the subdivision was car- 
ried too far. On the same subject, and on the indigence of the poor, 
'i). De Tocqueville, VAncien Regime, p. GO ; and Cochtjt in Revue des 
Deux Mondes, Sept., 1848. 



THE PHILOSOPHERS OF THE REVOLUTION. 41 

Laps even impossible to attach too much impor- 
tance, for whether we consider them as simply 
gathering into system the loose thoughts that were 
at the time floating among the people, or whether 
we regard them purely as the originators of the 
methods of thought that came to be generally 
adopted, the fact remains that they furnished both 
the ground and the justification of the events that 
followed. Of these vv^riters thei'e v^ere four that 
may be regarded as typical of the whole class. 
They exerted an influence which in this connection 
deserves to be somewhat carefully noted. I mean 
Plelvetius, Condillac, Voltaire, and Rousseau. 

In the year 1758 Helvetius published his De 
L\Esprit^ a book which is generally considered the 
ablest and most influential work on morals pro- 
duced in France during the last century. The 
work sustains the same relation to ethics that 
Atheism does to the Christian religion. The author 
sets out with the declaration that the difference 
between man and other animals is simply the dif- 
ference in their external form ; that if Nature, in- 
stead of giving us hands and flexible joints, had 
terminated our limbs with hoofs like those of a 
horse, we should have remained wanderers on the 
earth, chiefly anxious to find our needful supply of 
food, and to protect ourselves against the attacks 
of wild beasts.'"' That the structure of our bodies 

* " Si la nature, aulieu des mains ct des doig-ts flexibles, eut termino 
nos poignots par un pied de cheval ; qui doute que les liommes, sans 
art, sans habitation, sans defence centre les animaux, tout occupes du 



42 JDEMOCBAGY AND MONABCHY IN FRANCE. 

is thus the sole cause of our superiority over the 
beasts, he argues from the fundamental doctrine 
that our thoughts are simply the product of two 
faculties which we have in common with the 
beasts, namely, the faculty of receiving impres- 
sions from external objects, and the faculty of re- 
membering those impressions. From these prem- 
ises it was easy to deduce the conclusion, that inas- 
much as our sensibility and memory are funda- 
mentally the same as those of all other animals, 
they would remain as useless as those of all other 
animals, were it not for the external peculiarities 
for which we are so eminently distinguished.'^' 
It must be, therefore, that to those external pecu- 
liarities we owe everything that is most valuable. 
To take any other view is to allow ourselves to 
be deceived by conventional expressions and by 
the prejudices of ignorant men. Furthermore, 
memory, he asserted, is only one of the organs 
of sensibility f ; and judgment is only a sen- 
sation. % 



soin de pourvoir a leur nouriture et d'eviter les betes feroces, ne fus- 
sent encore errants dans les forcts commes les troupeaux fugitifs?" 
— Oeworcs de lieWdius^ London, 1781, vol. I. p. 2. 

* " Ces facultcs, que je reg-arde comme les causes productrices de nos 
pensees, et qui nous sont communes avec les animaux, ne nous f ournir- 
aient cependant q'un tros-pctit nombre d'idees, si elles n'etaient jointes 
en nous a une certaine organisation exterieure." — Oeumes de Helveiius^ 
vol. I. p. 2. 

f " En eff et la memoire ne peut otre qu'un des organes de la sensi- 
bilito physique." — Oeuvres, vol. I. p. 4. 

:]: " Je conclus que tout jugement n'est qu'une sensation." — Oeuvres, 
vol. I. p. 4 : also " Juger n'est jamais que sentir,^^ p. 7. 



TEE PHILOSOFHERS OF THE REVOLUTION: 43 

From these premises Helvetius argued tliat all 
om* notions of virtue and duty must be tested by 
reference to our senses; in other words, by the 
gross amount of physical enjoyment which they 
afford. The loftiest virtues as well as the meanest 
vices are caused^ not simply indicated^ by the 
pleasure we find in their exercise. All our emo- 
tions spring directly from our physical sensibili- 
ties ; and, as our sensibilities are dependent upon 
the outer world, it follows that everything that we 
have, and everything that we are, we owe to the 
objects which surround us. In short, man is noth- 
ing and can be nothing except what he is made by 
the circumstances in which he is placed.'''"" 

The general tendency of this system of reasoning 
is too manifest to require any lengthy discussion. 
It will answer our purpose to indicate one or two 
of the most curious conclusions to which it directly 
led. If it be true that there are no virtues except 
in those objects and actions which minister to the 
pleasure of our senses, it follows as a necessary 
corollary that in order to possess the highest virtue 
we have but to abandon ourselves most completely 
to the gratification of our appetites and passions. 
Again, if it be true that man is nothing except 
what he is made by the objects which suiTound 

* "La conclusion gcnerale de ce Discours, est que tous les hommcs, 
communomcnt bien org-anisos, ont en eux la puissance physiqiio do 
s'clcver aux plus hautcs idoes ; et que la difforenco d'osprit qu'on re- 
marque entre eux, depend des diverses circonstanccs dans lesquelles 
lis se trou vent places, ct de rcducatiou diff ercnte qu'ils recoivent. "— 
Oeuvres, vol. I. p. 407. 



44 BEMOGBAGT AND MONABGHT IN FBANGE. 

Mm, it follows tliat if lie finds lie is not wliat lie 
desires to be, his effort should be to change those 
surrounding objects, since it is these that compel 
him to be what he is. If those objects are polit- 
ical forms, the political forms should be changed 
or swept away. If they are the demands of the 
church, the church must be condemned. If they 
spring from the restraints of any system of relig- 
ions belief even, such a system can only contribute 
to the unhappiness of the race. Thus the system 
of Helvetius carried out to its natural conclusions 
furnishes a logical justification, at once, for athe- 
ism and for revolution. It does even more than 
that : it not only establishes them, but it sanctifies 
them and even makes them a solemn duty, since 
it founds them upon the requirements and con- 
ditions of a severe system of morals. Finally, as 
if to leave no allurement unused, it completes its 
attractions by urging the superiority of the pas- 
sions over the intellect, and by advocating their en- 
couragement and license.''^' 

The extent of the influence of these doctrines can 
be estimated only after an inquiry concerning the 
manner in which they were received. In our own 
day such a work could have no appreciable influ- 
ence, for it would have no readers except among 
those who have already thrown off the conventional 



* Chaps. VII. acd VIII. of Biscours III. are devoted to proving "La 
supcriorito d'csprit des g-ens passiones, sur les gens senses," and that 
" On devient stiipide, des qu'on cesse d'etre passione." — Oewores^ voL 
I. pp. 187 et 193. 



THE PniLOSOPTIERS OF THE REVOLUTION. 45 

restraints of respectability. In France, however, 
during the last century the case was far other- 
wise. The tone of society was such that it seized 
with avidity for its justification and encourage- 
ment a work of such ability and character.'"^ The 
consequence was that the De HEsjprit of Helve- 
tius not only secured for its author a European re- 
putation, but it increased in influence, especially 
in France, down to the end of the century. Surin, 
though a zealous opponent of Helvetius, declares 
that " strangers the most eminent for their dignity 
and their culture desire to be introduced to a 
philosopher whose name is spoken in all parts of 
Europe." f Brissot, who wrote twenty years and 
more after the publication of De L^ Esprit., says 
that the system of Helvetius was in the greatest 
vogue. J Turgot refers to it as a system that was 
praised " with a kind of fury," § and Georgel 
declares that the book was to be found on every 
table. II In referring to the popularity of the 
work, Cousin speaks of it as having established 
itself, almost without combat, in all the ranks of 
society and in the salons of the ca2:)ital, so that 
Madame DudefPant, a person who represented 



* Cousin has well expressed the fact in saying-, *' Le siocle de Lonis 
XV. se rcconmit dans I'ouvrage d'Helvotius." — Hist, de la PMlos.^ I. 
Scric, vol. III. p. 201. 

f Biog. Univ., vol. XX. p. 33. 

X Meinoires, vol. I. p. 339. 

g Ocuvres, \ol. IX. p. 297. 

II " Ce livre se trouvait sur toutes les tables." — Memoires, vol. II. 
p. 25G. 



46 DEMOCBAGY AND 3I0NARGHT IN FBANGE. 

the intelligence of her epoch, could say with truth, 
" The success of the book of Helvetius is not sur- 
prising : he is the man who has told the secret of 
everybody." "' 

These references might be reinforced by others 
drawn from the various branches of French litera- 
ture of that period ; but it is unnecessary. Enough 
has been said to indicate the powerful hold which 
the system of Helvetius had upon the different 
ranks of French society. It is sufficient that we 
have seen the general character of the work, and 
that for fifty years before the outbreak of the Rev- 
olution, it was the code of morals most generally 
accepted by the French people. 

Four years before the publication of his IJe 
J] Esprit^ had appeared the ablest work of the great- 
est French metaphysician of the last century, f 

I refer to the celebrated treatise of Condillac 
on the Sensations. Setting out from the great 
work of Locke on the Human Understanding as a 
starting-point, and rejecting one-half of Locke's 
theory, Condillac wrought out a system of the 



* Hist. Mod. PMos., Trans, by Wiglit, vol. I. p. Gl. 

f " Condillac reprcsente en France la PMlosophie du dix-huitiemc 
siccle comme Descartes represente celle du dix-septicme. " {Cousin., 
Premiers Essais de PMlosophie, p. 128. ) ' ' Condillac est le metapliisi- 
cien fran^ais du XVIII siecle. {Hist, delci PJdlos., I. Serie, vol. Ill, 
p. 83. " Traite des Sensations, sans comparaison, le chef-d'csuvres de 
Condillac." {Hist, de laPhiloso., II. Serie, vol. II. p. 77.) "The first 
writer who undertook the expounding of Locke's philosophy was Con- 
dillac, a writer who is universally placed at the head of the whole mod- 
em school of French sensationalism." — MorelVs Hist, of Mod. Philos., 
p. 194. 



i 



THE PniLOSOPlIEBS OF THE REVOLUTION. 47 

purest sensationalism. His effort, as lie plainly 
declared, was to show by the most subtle course of 
reasoning that all our knowledge is the product of 
sensations. "^^ 

Cousin sums up the characteristics of the system 
by saying that it is " sensation transformed, be. 
coming successively conscience, memory, attention, 
all our faculties, and engendering all our ideas." f 
Condillac's method of argument it is unnecessary 
to trace, except in the briefest possible outline. 
While Locke distinguished tw^o sources of our 
ideas— sensation and memory — Condillac affirmed 
that memory is but another form of sensation, J — 
is, indeed, in its principle, only sensation itself,— 
is less the source of our ideas than the channel in 
which our ideas flow. It follows, then, that every- 
thing which we know is the result of sensation ; 
in other words, of the impression made upon us by 
the external world. § Accordingly, Nature is the 



* " Le principal objet de cet ouvrage est de faire voir comment 
toutes nos connaissances et toutes nos facultes viennent des sens, ou, 
pour parler plus exactement des sensations : car, dans le vrai, les 'sens 
ne sont que cause occasionelle. lis ne sentent pas, c'cst Fame seule 
qui scut V. roccasion des organes ; et c'est des sensations qui la rnodi- 
licnt, qu'ello tire toutes ses connaissances et toutes ses facultes."— 
Oeiicrcs de ComUllac^ vol. III. p. 3. 

■\ Prciniers Essais de Philosoplde, p. 139. 

X La memoire n'est done que ]a sensation transformoe."— (9cz/?;7'cs 
de Condillac, vol. III. p. 17. 

§ " II rcsulte de cette vcrite, que la nature commence tout en nous: 
aussi ai-je dcmontrc que, dans le principc ou dans le commencement, 
nos connaissances sont uniquement son ouvragc, que nous no nous 
instruissons que d'aprus ses lemons ; et que Vart de raissoner consistc a 
continucr couime clle nous a fait commcncer."— Ocwi'/'cs, vol. III. p. 



48 DEMOCRACY AND MOITAECHY ZzY FRANCE. 

beginning of all, and it is to Nature tliat we owe 
all our knowledge. 

Now observe bow completely tbese conclusions 
barmonize witb tbose of Helvetius. If it be true 
tbat all our ideas are formed by sensation alone, 
then we are wbat we are from tbe nature of tbose 
objects about us, from wbicb our sensations are 
divided. If it be true that tbe distinguishing 
characteristics of humanity lie in the peculiarities 
of sensation, must we not conclude that morality 
consists simply in being true to the demands and 
suggestions of sensation ? The logic is relentless. 
It comes then to this : we are morally loiind to 
obey the impulses created within us by the objects 
vv^ith which we come in contact, — and what is that 
but saying that the only moral obligation which 
rests upon us is to be immoral ? 

We may be tempted to think, for the moment, 
that a course of reasoning which leads to so para- 
doxical a conclusion must have carried with it very 
little power of conviction ; but no greater mistake 
could be made. Whatever may be thought of the 
philosophical merit of Condillac's theories, there 
can be no denying that they were urged and en- 
forced by a closeness and severity of reasoning 
which was altogether extraordinary. - Cousin, 



178. Also, " La nature n'avait done qu^m moyen de lui faire con- 
naitre son corps, et ce moyen ctait do lui faire apercevoir ses sensa- 
tions, non comme des modifications de son amc mais comme des 
modifications des organes qni en sont antant de causes occasionelles. " 
—Ibid. p. 179. 



THE PHILOSOPHERS OF THE PEVOLUTIOK. 49 

tliougli a hostile critic, has declared, as already 
stated, that Gondii lac was the one French meta- 
physician of the last century, and that of his works, 
the Traite des Sensations was beyond all compari- 
son the ablest. In fact, the metaphysical work of 
Condillac was received with n>fwreur quite simi- 
lar to that which had displayed itself on the publi- 
cation of the work of Helvetius on morals. 

I have spoken of the characteristics of these 
w^orks, not for the sake of parading their monstros- 
ities, but in order to show the nature of an in- 
fluence which for two generations in France was 
well-nigh irresistible. Without understanding that 
influence, it is impossible to understand the last 
three-fourths of a century of French history. Let 
us inquire, then, briefly what their influence was. 

In the first place, it can hardly be doubted that 
on the progress of science the doctrines of which 
I have spoken had. a stimulating influence of con- 
siderable power. As Nature was placed above 
everything else, it was natural that Nature should 
receive an extraordinary amount of attention. 
And this extraordinaiy devotion to Nature was 
not left without its rewards. The laws of the 
radiation and conduction of heat were worked out 
by Prevost and Fourier ; Mains discovered the 
polarization of light ; Lavoisier hit upon the true 
theory of oxidation and respiration, and was the 
first to adopt a systematic cliemical nomencla- 
ture ; Buffon and Rouelle prepared the ^vay for a 
new science by explaining the instability of tlie 

8 



50 DEMOGBAGT AND MONARGRY IN FBANGE. 

earth's surface, wliile Cavier made such advances 
ill geology and in comparative anatomy as to 
entitle hhn to be regarded as one of the greatest 
naturalists that Europe has ever produced. In- 
deed, there was no realm of Nature into which 
those worshippers of Nature did not push their 
industry and their intelligence. The result was 
that France, duiing the latter half of the eigh- 
teenth century, probably added more new truths 
to our knowledge of the external world than the 
nation had added during the whole of its previous 
history. 

But what was their influence on religion ? Nat- 
urally enough, of a character precisely the oppo- 
site of that just considered. Indeed, it could not 
be otherwise. If, as Helvetius declared, all our 
notions of duty and virtue are to be tested -by 
their relation to the senses, surely it is unreasona- 
ble to ask that we obey any other commands than 
those of our senses. If man be nothing except 
what he is made by the objects which surround 
him, he is under no obligations exeept such as bind 
him to those objects. If, as Condillac affirmed, 
our senses are the only factors of our ideas, then 
we can have no knowledge of anything which is 
beyond the possible cognition of our senses. If, 
in fine. Nature be the ultimate source of all, it is 
merely an absurd contradiction to suppose that 
there is anything beyond Nature, or back of Na- 
ture. The conclusion of all is that there is no 
God. 



THE PIIIL0S0PHEB8 OF TEE BEVOLTJTION. 5I 

ISTor was this a mere speculation which took no 
deep hold of the natures of the people. Many 
things had occurred to weaken such religious ear- 
nestness as they previously may have had. The 
logic of the new theories was flattering to intelli- 
gent minds, and, above all, there was a delicious 
freedom in feeling that old-time restraints were 
b]'oken away, and that now there was nothing to 
be worshipped but the objects which Jiiinister to the 
gratification of the senses. Now notice the result. 
Burton, in his life of Hume, relates that in 1764 
the historian visited Paris, and that at the house 
of Baron d'Holbach he met a party of the most 
celebrated Frenchmen then residing at Paris. 
The Scotchman took occasion to raise a question in 
regard to the actual existence of an atheist. ^' For 
my own part," said he, "I have never chanced to 
meet one." " You have been unfortunate," replied 
Holbach, ^' but at the present moment you are sit- 
ting at table with seventeen of them." Priestly, 
who visited France ten years later, declared : " All 
the philosophical persons to whom I Avas intro- 
duced at Paris were unbelievers in Christianity, and 
even professed atheists." When in 1770 the " Sys- 
tem of Nature ^1'' a work which was generally re- 
garded as the code and hand-book of atheism, was 
published, it was read and praised by everybody ; 
in the words of Voltaire, by '' des sava^nts^ des ig- 
norants^ des femmesP Even the archbishoj) of 
Toulouse, in an address to the King in behalf of 
the clergy, declared, in 1775, that atheism had be- 



52 BEMOGRAGY AND MONARGHY IN FRANCE. 

come the dominant opinion. In short, the f ashion- 
^ able belief of French society during the last part 
of the last century was that Christianity was a 
pernicious delusion, and that professing Christians 
were either hypocrites or imbeciles. It might with 
entire consistency have adopted as its own the au- 
dacious creed of La Mettrie, which has been con- 
densed by a modern historian into these words : 
" Everything spiritual is a delusion, and physical 
enjoyment is the highest end of man. Faith in 
the existence of God is as groundless as it is fruit- 
less. The world will not become happy till atheism 
becomes universally established. Immortality is 
an absurdity. The soul perishes with the body of 
which it forms a 23 art. With death everything is 
over, la farce est jouee. Let us enjoy ourselves as 
long as we exist, and not throw away any satisfac- 
tion." '^'• 

But it is time to inquire in regard to the politi- 
cal influence of these doctrines. 

Perhaps nothing is more familiar to the histori- 
cal student than the fact that religious and politi- 
cal commotions often go hand in hand. A mistake 
is sometimes made by supposing that the latter are 
caused by the former. They are rather the chil- 
dren of the same parent, — not the one the child 
of the other. This was especially the case in 
France jusfc before the French Revolution. The 
same philosophy which manifested contempt for 

* Schwegler, Hist, of Phil., p. 207. 



TEE PHILOSOPHERS OF THE REVOLUTION'. 53 

existing forms in religion, was equally powerful in 
supplanting all respect for existing forms in poli- 
tics. The logic of those political thinkers who had 
taken their position on the doctrines in morals and 
metaphysics to which I. have referred, when re- 
duced to its simplest form, was as follows : We 
are, religiously, politically, socially, and individu- 
ally, what we are made by the objects which sur- 
round us. We are not what we desire to be. As 
we can only change what we are by changing 
those objects which make us what we are, so we 
must overthrow those objects before we can be- 
come what we desire. Thus the doctrines of the 
age were not simply the philosophy of atheism ; they 
were also the philosophy of revolution. When the 
political wrongs of the age are remembered ; when 
we call to mind the financial and social condition 
of the peoj)le; when we see taking firm root in 
their minds and hearts a philosophy which at once 
indicates all the causes of their woes and points to 
a means of escape from them, we see that every- 
thing was ready, and that to produce an explosion 
nothing but an occasion was needed. 

Before the occasion arrived, however, other ma- 
terials, which we must now consider, were added 
to the mass of combustibles. For the absolute 
perfection of preparation the influence of Voltaire 
and Housseau was still to be supplied. 

The extraordinary homage paid to the memory of 
Voltaire at the time his remains were transferred 
to the Pantheon in 1791, was hardly more than. 



54 BEMOGBAGY AITD MONAUGIIY m FRANGE. 

^ just recognition of what lie had done for the 
Revoliitioa. ''* 

When a mere boy, he had felt the hard rigors 
of the old regime. Educated under the direction 
of dissolute priests, he came to believe as earnestly 
aa he ever believed anything, that all priests were 
hypocrites, and that Christianity was a deception 
and a fraud. His quick eye saw with great clear- 
ness the abuses of the government, and his quick 
wit enabled him to expose them. As early as 
1716, a satire v^as published in which the most 
prominent wrongs of the nation were portrayed. 
The diferent members of the court were assailed 
with an energy and a grace which revealed the 
hand of a master. On the evidence of a single 
line Arouet (for he had not yet become Voltaire) 
was suspected of the authorship, and was accord- 
ingly thrown into the Bastile.f He was, liow- 

* Though Voltaire at the time of his death was the idol of the peo- 
ple, the influence of the church was still such as to exclude his re- 
mains from interment in consecrated ground. In 1791 the rod of the 
priests had been broken, and it was consequently decreed that the re- 
mains should be transferred to the Cathedral of French Philosophy. 
The funeral ceremony was the most magnificent ever given to the 
-memory of a private individual. The march of expiation continued 
sis hours, and was participated in by every member of the National As- 
sembly and every member of the city government. The culmination 
of this apotheosis was perhaps the graceful stanza of Le Brun : 

" Parnapse, freiiiiscle cToulciir et <refi:roi ! 
Plenrcz, Muses, bi-isez vos lyres immortelles ! 
Toi dont il fatigua les cent voix et les ailes 
Dis que Voltaire est mort, ploure et repose toi ! " 

Bictlonnaire Uiiiversel, vol. 18. 

f " J'ai vu ces maux, et je n^ai pas vingt ans. " As Arouet was the only 
young poet supposed to be able to produce so good a poem, the critics 



THE PHILOSOPHERS OF THE BEYOLUTION. 55 

ever, innocent of the crime charged, and as he was 
imprisoned without trial, his hatred of arbitrary- 
power was intensified from a mere sentiment into 
a real passion. His power and his wit ''^ were al- 
ready mature, and, from the moment of his re- 
lease, he let no opportunity escape of making 
them felt. 

In the interests of political liberty, it may per- 
haps be admitted that Voltaire did good service ; 
at least he would have done good service had he 
been surrounded by a different atmosphere. The 
maxims of the old despotism he attacked with a 
power that was irresistible. That despotism had 
found its best exponent and defence in the match- 
less eloquence of Bossuet. The book of this great 
preacher, entitled " Politics drawn from the Bible," 
was an able endeavor to justify the maxims of an 
unlimited monarchy and an unbridled priesthood. 
It has been called the Catechism of absolution and 
the Testament of the age of Louis XIV. It was 
really the embodiment and the consecration of the 
old regime and its worst abuses. The author re- 
called these abuses and supported them by numer- 
ous texts of Scripture. His argument in its nature 



and tlie government at once believed that they had detected the 
authorship, though no other evidence was produced. 

* The Duke of Orleans, informed of Voltaire's innocence, set him 
at liberty and sent him a liberal sum of money. The wit of the poet's 
answer shows that he was ready for any emergency : ' ' Monseigneur, 
je remercie votre altesse royale do vouloir bien continuer a, so charger 
de ma nourriture, mais je la pris de ne plus se charger de men loge- 
ment."— i)i*c. Univ., vol. XVIII. p. IIG. 



50 DEMOGHAGT AND IIOITABGEY IJV FBANGE. 

and in its effect was identical witli tlie one whicli 
was so familiar to us in tlie days of slavery. It 
served to couple absolution and religion together, 
and in the estimation of many to make them alike 
obnoxious. Both were vigorously assailed by 
Voltaire. It was not longf before the book of 
Bossuet was scornfully repudiated by the people ; 
and its influence, even with many of the clergy, 
was completely destroyed. 

In the year 1761 an event occurred which gave 
Voltaire a national popularity, whicli his literary 
genius alone, great as it Vv^as, could hardly have ' 
secured. The son of a Protestant, by the name of 
Galas, was found strangled. He had been of a 
melancholy temperament, and had probably com- 
mitted suicide. But the father was charged wuth 
having committed the deed to get rid of his son. 
He was put upon trial and was required to prove 
his innocence ; but as this was impossible, eight of 
his judges against five thought him guilty, and he 
was accordingly put to death. The remaining 
members of the family moved to Geneva, where 
Voltaire became acquainted with the facts of the 
trial. His indignation was aroused, and he inves- 
tigated the whole matter. He submitted the re- 
sults of his inquiries to the judgment of the world. 
As the facts were revealed, the iniquity of the 
affair became so notorious that the government 
was obliged to grant the petition of the family 
for a new trial. The result was that fifty judges, 
after carefully examining all the evidence, declared 



THE PBIL0S0PHEB8 OF THE REVOLUTION. 57 

tliat Calas had been innocent. It was of course 
something that the name and honor of an innocent 
man were at length vindicated, although the man 
himself had already suffered an ignominious death. 
The real imjDortance of the case, however, is in the 
fact that it brought Voltaire so prominently be- 
fore the nation. His eloquent championship of 
an innocent man introduced him to the sympathies 
of all the people, and secured for him a favorable 
hearing. The sympathies of the church had been so 
enlisted in the case against the Calas family, that 
Voltaire was able to direct his shots with most tell- 
ing effect. Nowhere else in all his writings did he 
attack the church with so much vigor and with 
such apparent reason as in the treatise called out 
by this celebrated case.'''* Beaumarchais, in speak- 
ing of the work, refers to it as " the book which 
contains the most terrible objection that can be 
raised against religion. f ^' Why," demanded Vol- 
taire, '' do the clergy, who enjoy a fifth of all the 
property in the state, insist upon making war 
upon the people ? Would you listen to a pro- 
fessor of physics who should be paid for teaching 
a particular system, and who would lose his for- 
tune in case he should teach any other ? Would 
you listen to a man who preaches humility while 
he insists upon being called MonseigneuVj and vol- 

* Traite sur la Tolerance d Voccasion do la Mart de Jean Calas, 
— Oeuvres de Voltaire {Beaumarchais edition)^ vol. XXX. p. 39. 
f Oeuvres de Voltaire, vol. XXX. p. 50. 
3* 



58 DEMOGBAGY AND MONABGHT IN FBANGE. 

untaiy poverty while lie is accumulating Ms bene- 
fices ? " ''' 

The service of Voltaire in the interests of the 
Galas family illustrates perfectly the spirit with 
which he treated all questions of a social and polit- 
ical nature. He was strictly a humanitarian ; and 
wherever he saw abuses, — and they were everywhere 
about him, — he did not hesitate to attack them with 
all the fervor at his command. There was, more- 
over, in all his writings a vivacity so sparkling, 
and an urbanity so exquisite, that he seldom failed 
to awaken the most hearty and complete sym- 
pathy of his readers. The influence of these liter- 
ary characteristics was encouraged both by his own 
method of thought, and by the peculiar atmos- 
phere by which he was" surrounded. He was, in 
every sense of the word, a disbeliever ; in every 
system of positive belief he saw what he thought 
to be so man}^ inconsistencies, that it was impossi- 
ble for him to adopt any belief whatever. His 
mind seemed to be constantly on the search for 
something on which he could flash the fire of his 
wit ; and it happened that at the period when he 
wrote, the material for the gratification of this 
quality of his genius was unusually abundant. It 
was precisely this habit of mind which made it im- 
possible for him to believe ardently in anything. 
If an atheist is one who believes that there is no 
God, Voltaire was certainly not an atheist ; if, on 

* OewDTes de Voltaire, vol. XXX. p. 50. 



TEE PHILOSOPHERS OF THE BEVOLUTION. 59 

the other hand, an atheist is one who has no posi- 
tive belief that there is a God, he was an atheist. 
If asked categorically whether he believed in the 
existence of a Supreme Being, he probably would 
have answered in substance : " I don't know, and 
I know of no way in which I can ascertain." 
There is a kind of unbelief which is not satisfied 
with denying, but which asserts its negative as 
dogmatically as an opponent would assert a posi- 
tive. Its habit is to assert earnestly that such or 
such a statement is not true ; or that such or such 
a thing does not exist. There is another species 
which contents itself with denial ; it believes 
neither in the negative nor the positive ; it says 
practically, " I do not believe that there is a God ; 
neither do I believe that there is not a God; I 
have no sufficient evidence for a positive faith, one 
way or the other." Now, of these two species of 
scepticism, the latter is by far the more dangerous, 
since it is likely to command by far the greatest 
influence. In every system of positive belief there 
are at least apparent difficulties, which, in the 
hands of a genius, may be made to appear ridicu- 
lous ; and the more numerous the inconsistencies, 
the greater the opportunity of the apostle of dis- 
belief. There never was a time in the history of 
any nation when such opportunities were more nu- 
merous than in France during the last century.'"* 

* Tho only period whicli bears any considerable resoniblance to it, is 
that which just preceded the Reformation. From a religious point of 
view, the condition of society at the beginning of the fifteenth century 



QQ DEMOCRziGT AND MOITARGHY IN FRANCE. 

The condition of Frencli morals, partly created 
and partly indicated by the pliilosopliers whose 
works I have just discussed, gave to Voltaire, of 
course, every encouragement. This state of society, 
and the peculiar qualities of the author's mind, fur- 
nish a complete key to the enormous influence 
which he v/as able to exert. They furnish also an 
explanation of the fact that his influence was com- 
paratively temporary. The man who believes 
nothing, or, what is the same thing, announces a 
change of belief fifty times in the course of his- life, 
can have no very permanent influence, whatever 
may be the qualities of his genius, or whatever 
may be the extent of his influence on his own gen- 
eration.'"'' 

There can be no possible doubt, however, that 
these very qualities increased Voltaire's influence 
on the society of his own time. The tenacity with 
which the mass of the people always cling to old 
systems and old names, even after their old faith 
in them is shaken, is overcome, perhaps, by ridicule 
more easily than in any other way. Voltaire in 
early life swore mortal war against the religious 
man, just as Diderot and Ilelvetius had sworn 
against the moral man.f He Vv^as not simply un- 

was in some respects more deplorable than it was at the end of the 
eighteenth ; from a moral and a politicu.1 point of view, it was doubtless 
better. 

* " En attendant, souvenez-vous que Voltaire a fait en sa vie une cin- 
quantaine do professions de foi, sans compter ou en comptant celle 
qu'il fit imprimer a Paris dans tons les papiers publics quelques mois 
avant sa mort." — La Harpe, Coars de Litterature, vol. XVI. p. 50. 

f La Ilarpc, Cours de Litter ature^ vol. XVI. p. 373. 



THE PHIL080PHEE8 OF THE REVOLUTION. Q\ 

believing ; he was impious. He hesitated at noth- 
ing ; he dealt in calumnies the most outrageous, 
accusations the most false, and lies the most fre- 
quent and enormous. The most sacred things in 
religion and morals were the favorite objects of 
his scoffing raillery ; and so keen was his wit, so 
blasting his mockery, that those who professed to 
cling still to the old doctrines of religion and vir- 
tue, were either driven into obscurity or covered 
with general contempt. The worst of his dramas 
was the most popular; and the book sure to be 
found on every drawing-room table in Paris was 
the one which must now be regarded as the most 
objectiona])le. 

The negative, or what may perhaps with greater 
propriety be called the destructive influence of 
Voltaire, was not altogether unlike that which had 
long before been exerted by Erasmus. The works " 
of these authors certainly |)resent far more points 
of di:fference than points of similarity, and yet in 
one particular their relation to the times in which 
they respectively lived were strikingly alike. The 
work which Erasmus did in preparing the way for 
the Reformation was quite similar in kind to that 
done by Voltaire in preparing the way for the 
Revolution. The work of both was to ridicule 
that which existed and prepare the way for that 
which was to come. How well Erasmus did his part 
is known to all who have read the Brcdse of Folly 
and the Colloquies. But the work of Voltarie was 
even more effective. Erasmus threw a strong* ll^^lit 



02 BBMOGRAGY AND MONARCHY m FRANCE. 

upon the cunning devices of the monks, and set a 
large part of Europe to laughing at them ; but the 
light which Voltaire flashed upon the follies of his 
age, not only made them visible, but it also 
scorched and blasted them. His was the electric 
flash ; it might be avoided, but it could not be re- 
sisted. The only y/ay to be secure was to keep 
out of its v/ay ; and to elude it was either to be 
insignificant, or to fall into the current of the age 
and be swept along with it. Indeed, there was no 
joint in the harness either of religion or govern- 
ment into which he did not thrust his keen lance. 
There is one other point in this discussion of 
Voltaire's influence which must not be passed over. 
I refer to the amount and variety of his writings. 
That he was able to produce seventy octavo vol- 
umes of such excellence as to entitle them to a 
permanent rank in French literature would, of it. 
self, be one of the marvels of a literary age ; and 
yet the real wonder is not in the amount of his 
writings, but in the fact that in all the varieties of 
literary work to which he turned his attention, 
save perhaps in what pertained to politics alone, 
he was the foremost author in France, if not the 
foremost author of his time. At the age of 
twenty-four he was conceded to be the greatest 
poet in France,'^' and since his death, which oc- 
curred at eighty-four, many of the critics maintain 
that he was the greatest poet that France has ever 

* La Harpe, vol. VIII. p. 39, also p. 270. 



THE PHILOSOPHERS OF THE REVOLUTION. (33 

produced. But great as lie was as a poet, as a 
writer of prose lie was even greater. The judg- 
ment of La Harpe is, tliat as a writer on the phi- 
losophy of government he was surpassed only by 
Montesquieu, and as a writer on national history 
only by Bu:ffon.^^' Buckle, after a careful an- 
alysis of his works, and after a somewhat de- 
tailed comparison of his services with those of 
Niebuhr f declares that " taking him on the whole, 
he is probably the greatest historian that Europe 
has yet produced." % 

In order to complete our estimation of Voltaire's 
prodigious power, it remains, perhaps, only to add 
that his popularity was quite equal to his literary 
merit. Before the beginning of this century fifty 
editions of his works had been published with an 
aggregate sale of three hundred thousand copies. 



* ' ' Voltaire allait toujours grandissant, et tous les prosateurs, qui 
avaient occupes le public un moment, s'eclipsaient plus ou moins devant 
lui. Pour Montesquieu et Buffon leur renommee etait entiere, niais 
moins populaire que la sienne. II couvrit la poseie de tout I'eclat qui 
rejaillissait encore sur elle du beau siede de Louis XIV." — La Har-pe^ vol, 
VIII. p. 270. 

f " I can say with confidence, after a careful comparison of both 
writers, that the most decisive arguments advanced by Niebuhr against 
the early history of Rome, had all been anticipated by Voltaire, in 
whose works they may be found by whoever will take the trouble of 
reading what this great man has written, instead of ignorantly railing 
against him." — History of Civilization, vol. I. p. 589. 

:j: " I have been more particular in stating the immense obliga- 
tions history is under to Voltaire, because, in England there exists 
against him a pvcjudico which nothing but ignorance, or something 
v/orsG than ignorance, can excuse ; and because, taking him on the 
whole, he is probably the greatest historian Europe has yet produced." 
—Vol. I. p. 591. 



(54 DEMOCBAGY AND MONARCHY IN FRANCE. 

Besides tliese, there had been separately printed 
fifty thousand copies of his theatrical works, three 
hundred thousand copies of the Henriade^ and 
about the same number of the Pucelle and of the 
Momances/' 

Let us recall now, for a moment, what had been 
accomplished. Helvetius, by a system of specious 
logic, had undermined the old doctrine of morals, 
and had taught men that the only obligation resting 
upon them was to obey the calls of their appetites 
and passions. Then Condillac, by a system of met- 
aphysics far more able and far more subtle, had 
convinced the mass of thinking Frenchmen that 
they owed their condition simply to the nature of 
the political and religious institutions about them, 
and that if they would change their condition they 
had but to overthrow those institutions. But there 
is, in the mass of humanit}^, a respect for the ven- 
erable which is not easily overcome. Men do not 
readily attempt to overthrow those institutions 
which have become sanctified by age. Then, as if 
for the purpose at once of stinging to death the 
old forms, and of ridiculing out of existence any 
such scruples of the people as might still linger, 
there came forward the dramas and satires of Vol- 



* A suflQcient idea of the variety and extent of Voltaire's literary 
work is conveyed, perhaps, by the bare statement that of the Beau- 
marchais edition there are fifteen volumes of poetry, thirteen of his- 
tory, three on politics, twelve on metaphysics, and twenty-six on mis- 
cellaneous subjects. On the popularity of his works, as indicated by 
the extent of their sale, v. Dktionnaire Universel Neuvieme edition^ vol. 
XVIII. pp. 142 et 143. 



THE PHILOSOPHEBS OF THE REVOLUTION. 55 

taire. The worlc of destruction, in the minds of 
vast numbers of the people, was thus completed. 
The soil had been turned over; the old vegetation 
appeared to be dead; the field was ready for the 
first new seed that might be thrown in. 

It would not be quite true to say that as yet all 
the work of the wiiters to whom I have referred 
was merely negative in its character. The theories 
of Helvetius and others gave to the passions a tre- 
mendous impulse, which was by no means nega- 
tive, and which ought not to be overlooked. At 
the same time it may be aifirmed that as yet there 
had appeared no system of human rights that was 
adequate to take the place of the systems which 
had been so undermined. The people had ac- 
quired a dislike which bordered upon contempt for 
those which existed, and their passions had been 
aroused by their wrongs until they were ready to 
move whenever anything should afford them the 
needed guidance. They were ready to destroy, 
but in fact they did not begin the work of politi- 
cal destruction until they had, or at least imagined 
that they had, something to put in the place of 
that which they would sweep away. That some- 
thing was furnished by Rousseau. 

It is somewhat singular that one whose life was 
so full of moral inconsistency, nay, one whose char- 
acter was, in many ways, so utterly contemptible, 
should liave been able to exert so powerful an in- 
fluence on the thoughts of his f eEow-men. As one 
reads his writimxs, one is reminded sometimes of 



QQ BEMOCRAGT AND MOJSfARGHT IN FRANCE. 

Burke and sometimes of Job Trotter. He seemed 
never so well pleased as when parading his sorrows 
in public, and his whole character, as Mr. Lowell 
well said of him, seemed to consist of that con- 
temptible mixture which is ready enough to shed 
tears before man, but which, at the same time, is 
absolutely devoid of all genuine feeling. He could 
advise parents pathetically concerning the treat- 
ment of their children, and then send his own off- 
spring to a foundling hospital. These contradic-. 
tions of his nature v/ere everywhere making them- 
selves manifest. His soul was overflowiag with 
sentiment ; but his sentiment was of that nervous 
t^^pe which shows itself at one time in tears and 
at another in the most abject cruelty. In his 
thoughts he was perpetually dealing with unreal- 
ities, and then attempting to appty the results of 
his reasoning to the hard problems of every-day 
life. These peculiarities, which are indeed, to a 
great extent, the peculiarities of the whole school 
of political sentimentality, made up a character in 
Rousseau that was the very embodiment and per- 
fection of inconsistency. 

But notwithstanding these weaknesses, there can 
be no doubt that Eousseau's influence was more 
powerful and more far-reaching than that of any 
of his contemporaries. In saying this, I remember 
that he lived in the very age which could boast of 
the two men who embodied in themselves the 
greatest literaiy genius and the highest literary 
culture of the eighteenth century. The merits of 



THE PHILOSOPHERS OF THE PEVOLUTIOK Q^ 

Eousseau, as a strictly literary man, are not worthy 
of comparison with those of Burke and Voltaire ; 
and yet, in one respect, he was the superior of 
tliem both. In greater measure than any other 
man of his time, he possessed the art of directing 
and moulding the thoughts of others. Burke al- 
^YD■ys astonished but never convinced. Voltaire 
inaugurated a fashion, but it was a fashion of scof- 
fing, of doubting ; that is to say, of negation. But 
Rousseau was the founder of a school. He was 
the intellectual father of the political sentimental- 
ists of the present century. Chateaubriand, Jef- 
ferson, Byron, Lamartine, and Victor Hugo, besides 
a host of lesser characters, were all his legitimate 
children. 

But abandoning generalities, let us inquire a lit- 
tle more definitely concerning the fundamental 
character of the system. It begins with the two 
undeniable assertions that all voluntary actions 
having for their object good or evil are moral ac- 
tions, and that all moral actions have their foun- 
dation in the reason. Everyman is born with the 
faculty of reason, consequently, everything with- 
out reason, be its form what it may, is not a per- 
son, but a thing. All law, human and divine, is 
grounded on the sacred principle that a person can 
never become a thing, nor be treated as such, with- 
out wrong. But the distinction bet^veen a thing 
and a person is that the former may ahvays be 
used purely and altogether as a means, while the 
latter must always be included in the end or final 



68 DEMOCBAGY AND MONKBGHT IN FBANGE. 

cause. For example^ we sow a field of grain and 
reap it ; we rear a bullock and slaughter it, simply 
and solely as a means for the accomplishment of 
our ends — that is to say, without any obligation 
on our part to the thing itself. We employ a la- 
borer also as a means, but with this all-important 
distinction, namely, that it is in accordance with an 
agreement of reciprocal advantage which includes 
him as well as us in the end. 

Up to this point, Rousseau's positions are doubt- 
less correct ; but in his next step there is a fallacy 
which leads directly to the false conclusions that fol- 
low. His position is that, inasmuch as the faculty 
of reason implies free agency, morality, which is 
the dictate of reason, gives to every rational being 
the right of acting under all circumstances as a 
free agent, and of finally determining his conduct 
by his own will ; and furthermore, that this right 
is inalienable except by an act of self-forfeiture. 
The most obvious conclusion to which this position 
leads, is that no law can be imposed upon an indi- 
vidual until that individual has given his consent 
to it. This conclusion, startling as it is, Kousseau 
justifies by a most subtle process of reasoning. 
He claims that in respect to their reason, strictly 
so called, all men are equal. The measure of all 
the other faculties of man, says he, is different in 
different persons ; but the reason is not suscepti- 
ble of degree, since " it merely decides whether any 
given thought or action is or is not in contradic- 
tion with the rest. It follows that there can be no 



THE PHILOSOPHERS OF THE BBTOLUTION. (59 

better reason or more reason in one man than in 
anotlier; Lence what is contrary to the reason of 
any one man is in its nature essentially and neces- 
sarily unreasonable." '"- It follows, also, that "no 
jndividual possesses the right of prescribing any- 
thing to another individual, the rule of which is 
not contained in their common reason," and that 
society, which is but an aggregate of individuals, 
can commumcate this right to no one. " It cannot 
possibly," says he, "make that right which the 
higher and inviolable law of human nature de- 
clares contradictory and unjust. But concerning 
right and wrong, the reason of each and every man 
IS the competent judge; for how else can he be an 
amenable being, or the proper subject of any law? 
This reason, therefore, in any one man cannot, even 
m the social state, be rightfully subjugated to the 
reason of any other. No individual, nor yet the 
whole multitude which constitutes the state, can 
possess the right of compelling him to do anything 
of which it cannot be demonstrated that his own 
reason must join in prescribing it." f Eousseau 
did not shrink from the conclusions to which this 
process of reasoning led. He boldly stated the 
problem of a perfect form of government to be, 
'\to find a form of society in wldcli. each one unit- 
ing himself with the tohole shall yet obey himself 

^^t Oeuvres do Eoasseau (Franlcfort, 1855), vol. III. pp. 281 mid 



70 BEMOGBAGT AND MONARGHT IN FBANGE. 

and remain as free as hefore^ ^' He did not even 
hesitate to deny the legitimacy of all representa- 
tion, but stated boldly that sovereignty cannot be 
represented for the same reason that it cannot be 
alienated. " It consists," to use his own words, " es- 
sentially in the general will, and the will is not 
to be represented : it is the same or it is another ; 
there is no middle ground. Deputies of the peo- 
ple are not, and cannot be, the representatives of the 
people ; they are only commissioners, and can decide 
nothing definitely. Every law which the people 
has not ratified is null, — it is not a law. The 
English peoj)le think themselves free, but they are 
grievously mistaken ; they ai'e free only during the 
election of members of parliament. As soon as 
the election is complete, they are slaves, they 
are nothing. During the few moments of their 
liberty, the use which they make of it is such that 
they deserve to lose it." f 

There was another conclusion, to which the 
positions taken by Rousseau led him, that is even 
more striking than the one just given. He re- 
garded it as established that '' no one is bound to 

* " Trouver une forme d' association qui defende et protege de toute 
la force commune la personne et les biens do chaque associo, et par la- 
quelle chacun, s^unissant a tous, n'obeisse pourtant qu'ii lui-mcme, et 
reste aussi libre qu'auparavant. Tel est le probleme fundamental dont 
le contrat social donne la solution." — Du Contrat Social^ Livre I. Cha- 
pitre VI. 

f Du Gontrat Social, Jjiyre III., Chapitre XV. The whole of this 
chapter of the Social Contract should be read by one who would under- 
stand the length to which the peculiar views of Kousseau were car- 
ried. 



THE PHILOSOPHERS OF THE PEVOLUTION. 



ri 



obey a law to which he has not given his consent," 
—in other words, a la^v which is contrary to his 
own will. 

Ifc is easy to show that this position is fatal to 
all society. What was my will yesterday, is not 
necessarily my will to-day. My will does not ex- 
haust itself by a single act. It follows, therefore, 
that a law which yesterday I approved, to-day I 
may condemn. But as I am bound by nothing 
which my will does not approve, and as my will 
does not now approve of a given law even though 
I did approve it yesterday, I am no longer bound 
to obey it. My will is my only master, and I am 
under no obligation to submit slavishly to laws 
from which my master bids me to free myself. 
In his words : ''' It is absurd that the will should 
give itself chains for the future." ^' 

Eousseau admitted that his doctrines drove him 
to the necessity of taking these positions, but he 
either did not see, or, what is quite as probable, 
did not choose to admit, the consequences. It 
seems not to have occurred to him that such princi- 
ples, if fully carried out, would be destructive, not 
only of all government, but of all society. It 
requires but the most elementary reasoning to see 

* " n est absurde que la volunte se donne des chaines pour ravenir • 
il ne depend d'aucune volunte de consentir a rien de contraire au bieu 
de I'etre qui veut. Si done le peuple promet simplement d'oboir, il se 
dissout par cet acte, il perd sa qualite de peuple ; a I'instant qu'il y a 
unraaitre, il n'y a plus de souverain, et des lorsle corps politique est 
dctruit."— X>w Contrat Social, Livre II. Chapitre I.; also "La loi 
d'hier n'oblige pas aujourd'hui," Li\re III. Chap. XI. 



72 DEMOGRAGT AMD MOMAUGIIY IN FBANGE. 

that if a man cannot be bound by any law or con- 
tract to which his own will does not at the mo- 
ment assent, he is of necessity condemned to an 
absolute and continued isolation. Such a doctrine, 
if generally adopted, would introduce an element 
of dissolution into every fibre and tissue of the 
body politic ; and yet it was so artfully woven 
into Rousseau's system of political philosophy, that 
it awakened no alarm whatever. 

It cannot be denied that these principles of 
Rousseau, absurd as they appear to us, were 
argued and enforced with great power. Coleridge 
has well remarked that it is always a " bad policy 
to represent a political system as having no charm 
but for robbers and assassins, and no natural 
origin but in the brains of fools and madmen," 
and the remark may be applied with especial per- 
tinence to our estimation of the political philoso- 
phy of Rousseau. Notwithstanding its many 
absurdities, it was so cunningly wrought out that 
it had a peculiar fascination for imaginative and 
gifted spirits. We shall hereafter see something 
of the extent of its popularity ; meanwhile let us 
consider for a moment the line of argument and 
exhortation by which his theories were given the 
appearance of practicality. 

He affirms that as soon as the service of the state 
ceases to be the principal affair of its citizens, the 
state is near its ruin. Such a deploj'able spirit of 
indifference to state affairs manifests itself in 
various ways. If it is necessary to go to battle, 



fe 



THE PHILOSOPHERS OF THE BEVOLTITION. 73 

men pay for substitutes and remain at home. If 
it is necessary to go to the council of state, tliey 
appoint deputies and devote themselves to their 
own ease and their own interest. By force of 
money and indolence they can have soldiers ready 
to fight, and legislators ready to accept of their 
fio^htins:. It is the bustle of commerce and the 
arts ; it is the avaricious desire of gain ; it is 
the love and effeminacy of elegant ease that 
substitutes money for personal service and thus 
threatens the nation's ruin. In a state which 
is truly free, the citizens accomplish everything 
with their hands, nothing with their money. 
Instead of paying to be exempt from their duty, 
they would rather pay for the privilege of doing 
it. In a city well constituted, each one hastens to 
the assemblies ; while in a bad government, no one 
cares to go because no one takes any interest in 
what is to be done. The reason of this indiffer- 
ence is, on the one hand, that everybody sees that 
the general will of the whole is not to prevail, and 
on the other that everybody is absorbed in the 
conduct of his own private aifairs. But such a 
course is fatal. As soon, as any one says of the 
business of state " Que m'importe ? " the state is 
doomed. The lukewarmness of patriotism, the 
activity of private interest, the immensity of per- 
sonal estates, and the abuses of government, have 
warped our judgment and our imagination respect- 
ing the rights of the people and the rights of the 
government. It is for these reasons that the inter- 



Y4 BEMOGRAGY AND MONAEGHY IN FRANCE. 

ests of two orders have been placed in tlie first and 
second rank ; while the interest of the public as , 
a whole has been placed in the third rank, — has 
been called the third estate."^' 

Now^, the only remedy for all these evils, declares 
EoLisseau, is that the people arise from their political 
lethargy and insist npon the restoration of power 
into their own hands. As already shown, they are 
under no obligation to obey any law to which they 
have not consented,— they are indeed under no ob- 
ligation to obey any statute to which they do not 
now consent. They must take upon themselves 
the duty of overthrowing such old laws as are of- 
fensive, and of framing such new ones as the cir- 
cumstances demand. 

It will be seen that in these positions there was 
something far more practical than anything ad- 
vanced by the writers v/hose works I have above 
considered. Here, at last, the French people found 
something positive and definite as a substitution for 
those principles which the philosophers had done 
so much to sweep away., Though the metaphysi- 
cians had done everything to convince the people 
that men are w^hat they are simply as an effect 
produced upon them by their external surround- 
ings, though the moralists had taught that the only 
basis of morality is in obeying speedily and con^ 
scientiously the calls of the appetites and passions,' 
and though the wits and scoffers had swept 

* Du Contmt Social, Liv. III. Chap. XV. 



THE PIIIL0S0PHER8 OF THE BEVOLTJTION. 75 

almost completely away the lingering respect of 
the people for everything venerable in church and 
state, yet it must be said, that in all their teach- 
ings there was no practical guidance of the people 
out of their evils and into what promised to afford 
them liberty and happiness. It is not altogether 
strange, therefore, that the masses of the people re- 
ceived the instructions and assurances of Eousseau 
with an ardor that amounted almost to infatuation. 
If we remember all their political wrongs, all their 
physical suiferings, all their bitter hatreds, all 
their passionate longings, and if, in addition, we 
call to mind the fact that in all the other writings 
of the time there was revealed, not a means of es- 
cape from their present condition, but merely a 
justification of escape, provided such a means 
should be found, we shall be able at least to form 
a conjecture with what enthusiasm such words as 
those of Kousseau were likely to be received. Our 
conjecture, however, in the absence of most posi- 
tive testimony, would be likely to fall short of the 
reality. 

But most positive testimony on this subject is 
not wanting. Hume, when he was in Paris, wrote, 
concerning Rousseau's popularity : " It is impos- 
sible to express or imagine the enthusiasm of this 
nation in his favor. No person ever so much en- 
gaged their attention as Rousseau. Voltaire and 
everybody else are quite eclipsed by him."'^* Path- 

* Burton's Life of Hume, vol. II. p. 299. 



76 DEMOCRACY AND MONARCHY IN FRANCE. 

ay in his life of Rousseau declares that when the 
JSfovelle Helo'ise appeared, the cii'culating libraries 
found it impossible to supply the demand for the 
work, though it was loaned out at an enormous 
rate and hut sixty minutes were allowed for' its per u- 
saV^ Nor was the popularity of the work mere- 
ly that which might be indicated by an enthusias- 
tic community over a mere work of fiction. It was 
generally regarded as in fact a new Grospel to dy- 
ing men, and it was seized upon with an avidity 
that stopped not short of absolute fanaticism. 
Grimm wi'ote from the capital that the Dijon Dis- 
course "wrought a kind of revolution at Paris," f 
and Napoleon even went so far as to declare to 
Girardin that " without Rousseau the French Rev- 
olution would not have occurred." J 

But the full influence of Rousseau has been no- 
where so well analyzed and portrayed as by Burke in 
his letter to a member of the National Assembly, 
written in 179L This letter is all the more valu- 
able from the fact that it was written before the 
occurrence of those excesses which marked the 
Reign of Terror. In speaking of the pernicious 
doctrines concerning education that were in France 
taking possession of society, he used these glowing 
words : 

" The Assembly recommends to its youth a study 

* " Onlouait I'ouvrag-e d tant par jour, ou par heure. Quand il parut 
on exigeait douze sous ])clt xolitme^ en ii' accordant que soixante minutes 
pour lelireP — Pathay^ Vie de Rousseau, vol. II. p. 361. 

f Correspondence, vol. I. p. 123. 

4 Lord Holland, Foreign Reminiscences, p. 261. 



THE PHILOSOPHERS OF THE MEVOLTITION. 77 

of the bold experimenters in morality. Everybody 
knows that there is a great dispute amongst their 
leaders, which of them is the best resemblance 
of Eousseau. In truth, they all resemble him. 
His blood they transfuse into their minds and into 
their manners. Him they study ; him they medi- 
tate ; him they turn over in all the time they can 
spare from the laborious mischief of the day or the 
debauches of the night. Rousseau is their canon 
of Holy Writ ; in his life he is their Canon of 
Polycletus ; he is their standard figure of perfec- 
tion. To this man and this writer, as a pattern to 
authors and Frenchmen, the foundries of Paris are 
now^ running for statues, with the kettles of the 
poor and the bells of the churches. If an author 
had written like a great genius on geometry, 
though his practical and speculative words were 
vicious in the extreme, it might appear that in vot- 
ing \h.Q statue they honored only the geometrician. 
But Eousseau is a moralist or he is nothing. It is im- 
possible, therefore, putting the circumstances to- 
gether, to mistake their design in choosing the au- 
thor v/ith whom they have begun to recommend a 
course of studies. Their great problem is to find 
a substitute for all the principles which hitherto 
have been employed to regulate the human w^ill 
and action. They find dispositions in the mind of 
such force and quality as may fit men far better 
than the old morality for the purposes of such a 
state as theirs, and may go much farther in sup- 
porting their power and destroying their enemies. 



78 DEMOCRACY AND MONABGHY IN FRANCE. 

They liave therefore chosen a selfish, flattering, 
seductive, ostentatious vice in the place of a plain 
duty. When your lords had many writers as im- 
moral as the o])ject of their statue (such as Vol- 
taire and others), they chose Rousseau, because in 
him that peculiar vice which they wished to erect 
into a ruling virtue was by far the most conspicu- 
ous." -^' 

It may well excite our wonder that a political 
gospel so full of inconsistencies and absurdities as 
that of Rousseau found millions of believers. 
Carlyle has arrayed it as the first of the " Prodi- 
gies ; " and has shown the fallacy of the Contrat 
Social in a single sentence. f And yet, in view 
of all the facts, it can hardly be denied that the au- 
thor exerted a more powerful and a more wide- 
spread political influence than any other political 
writer of the last century. J 

* Works of Edwin Burke (Boston, 1809), vol. IV. p. 25. 

f " If all men were such, that a mere spoken or sworn contract would 
bind them, all men were then true men and government a superfluity. 
Not what thou and 1 liave promised to eacli other ^ hut ichat the balance of 
our forces can make us perforin to each other : that, in so sinful a world 
as ours, is the thing to he counted on.'''' — The French Rewlution, Part II. 
^^Book I. Chap. VII. 

X Even in Glermany the influence of Rousseau was all-powerful. Les- 
sing-, after the appearance of the Discourse, declared, " It is impossible 
to speak otherwise than with secret veneration of those lofty ideas and 
sublime thoughts." Herder dedicated to Rousseau his first poem, and 
announces him as his guide through life. Kant even f ergot his daily 
walk while reading him ; Schiller even went so far as to compare him 
with Socrates ; and Goethe, though his own head seems not to have 
been turned, gives us a vivid di'scription of his influence over the youth 
of Germany, Of Rousseau's later influence, so temperate and eminent 
a writer as Sir Henry Maine (^Ancient Law, p. 84) speaks in these 



THE PHILOSOPEEBS OF THE REVOLUTION. 79 

To say that these theories of Rousseau were 
radically wrong and thoroughly pernicious in their 
political and social influence, is obviously to ex- 
press but very inadequately the evils which they 
embodied. Other theories may be thoroughly and 
fundamentally bad, and yet their evil influence 
be alleviated . or neutralized by external circum- 
stances. But the prime characteristics of Rous- 
seau's doctrines were that they were subversive of 
all government, future as well as present. He 
said to Frenchmen, in effect, " Every man is his own 
absolute master, and the only legitimate law for a 
man is his own individual will. At no time has 
any one a right to control him, if he does not give 
his consent. This will cannot be delegated for 
the reason that it cannot cease to reside wdth him- 
self. The consequence is that, speaking strictly, 
there can be no representative government. The 
laws may, indeed, be framed by deputies, but they 
must all be submitted to the people before they 
can have binding force. If an attempt be made 
to enforce a statute which the people have not con- 
sented to, it is the right and the duty of the peo- 
ple to resist it. If an attempt be made to force 
away your property, it is cowardly not to resist ; 
if the government endeavor to take away your 

terms : " We have never seen in our own generation — indeed, the world 
has nob seen more than once or twice in all the course of history — a lit- 
erature which has exercised such a prodigious influence over the minds 
of men, over every cast and shade of intellect, as that which emanated 
from Rousseau between 1749 and 17G2." Carlyle {Lectures on Heroes^ 
Lecture Fifth) has written in a similar strain. 



go DE3I0CRAGT AND MONARGHT IN FRANCE. 

liberty b}^ imposing upon you laws to wliicli you do 
not consent, it is the more cowardly not to resist 
by so much as liberty is better than earthly pos- 
sessions. Thus, it will be seen that the doctrines 
not only make revolution a right, but they also 
impose it upon the people as a duty,^a duty, too, 
which it is cowardly not to recognize and act 
upon." 

But the doctrines of Rousseau, as we have al- 
ready seen, did not end even here. Suppose that 
a revolution is carried successfully through, and 
that to-day the government assumes a form that is 
for the time being entirely satisfactory to the people. 
But the will of ruan to-day is not necessarily what 
it was yesterday ; and to-morrow it will not neces- 
sarily be what it is to-day. To-day I enter into a 
contract. To-day this contract is binding upon me, 
for it has received the endorsement of my free 
will. To-morrow, however, my will may change, 
and I may regret the action of to-day. My will 
of to-morrow is as independent of my will of yester- 
day, as it is of the will of another person. My 
will of to-day or to-morrow rises up against the 
tyranny of my past will and throws oif its author- 
ity. I am justified in rebelling, — nay, it is my 
duty to rebel, — whenever my will is not satisfied. 

These conclusions, drawn legitimately from the 
doctrines of Rousseau, are manifestly destructive, 
not only of all political governments, but also even 
of all social and commercial life. If there can be 
no permanency; in other words, if there can be no 



THE^ PHILOSOPHERS OF THE REVOLUTION. gl 

prospect that what is done to-day will remain until 
it is changed by a process which is to-day under- 
stood and accepted by all concerned, then all 
legislation is folly, inasmuch as all legislation is 
for the future, and there is no intelligence able to 
anticipate what the future may desire. It is not 
too much to say that the theories of Rousseau 
leave no standing-place for any political organiza- 
tion w^hatever. There can be no such absolute 
freedom of political action as Eousseau demands, 
without a return to barbarism ; — indeed, such 
absolute freedom is barbarism. 

I have dwelt at some length upon the most in- 
fluential writers of the period just before the 
Revolution, for the reason that I believe their 
writings contained the germs of those peculiar 
political evils with which France during the last 
half century and more has been afflicted. The 
social and political evils under which the people 
were staggering when Louis XVI. ascended the 
throne, numerous and oppressive as they were, can- 
not with propriety be called the chief causes of the 
Revolution. They were rather its occasion or its 
opportunity. They were the rank soil into which 
these seeds were thrown, and in which they sprang 
up and bore their bitter fruits. 

In every community there is some pervading 
public sentiment or other that is far more potent 
for good or for evil than any power which, inde- 
pendent of this public sentiment, is embodied in the 
statutes. It is difficult, nay it is impossible, under 



82 JDEMOGBAGT AND MONABGHY IN FBANGE. 

a free government to enforce a law wMcli has noi 
tlie general sanction of the community to which it 
is designed to aj)ply. Corruption in government 
may accumulate and abound until an enraged com- 
munity rises up in its might to overthrow those in 
authority. All these facts go to show the su- 
periority of public opinion over written codes. 
While the laws are the nation's words, public opin- 
ion is the nation's character. As we determine the 
amount of confidence we may safely repose in the 
words of men only after we have formed an estimate 
of their character, so we can judge of tlie condition 
of society only after we are familiar with the 
thoughts of the people. What Emerson calls the 
" tone " or " bent " of society is infinitely more im- 
portant than its laws ; for if the tone is right, the 
laws, if faulty, may be corrected; while if the 
tone is bad even good laws will not be enforced. 
This accords precisely wdth what Professor Seeley 
remarks concerning the necessary spirit in an in- 
stitution of learning. " Nothing," says he," is more 
indispensable than an intellectual tone, a sense of the 
value of knowledge, a respect for ideas and for cul- 
ture, a scholarly and scientific enthusiasm, or what 
Wordsworth calls a strong book-mindedness." ^^ 

This is but a recognition in an educational in- 
stitution of that very pow-er to which I would call 
attention in a nation at large. The thoughts, the 
feelings, the sentiments of a people are the powers 

* Boman Imperialism^ etc. , p. 210. 



THE PHILOSOPHERS OF THE IlEVOLUTIOW. gg 

wMcL, ill moiiarcliies and in republics alike, de- 
termine wliat a nation shall be and the laws wliicli 
it shall have. 

We have seen that the philosophers who wrote 
just before the revolution broke out, were philoso- 
phers of negation. The tendency of all their writ- 
ings was not to establish or correct, but to destroy ; 
and this destructive tendency, by means of the pop- 
ularity of their works, came to be thoroughly 
wrought into the intellectual and political charac- 
ter of the nation.'"' The consequences of this de- 
structive tendency have been most important. 
The prevailing tone of French society, and espe- 
cially of French politics, has been during the whole 
of the present century what can in no other way be 
so well characterized as by calling it revoliitionary. 
And what can such a spirit accomplish for a nation ? 
An eloquent answer to this question has been given 
by one who sheds light upon every subject which 
he considers. Guizot in accounting for the politi- 
cal tone of his lectures on the history of civilization, 
uses these somewhat melancholy words : " Forget- 
fidness and disdain of its past is a serious disorder 
and a great weakness in any nation. Such a spirit 



* In speaking of the spirit which pervaded the French writers of the 
last century, Sir Henry Maine wrote as follows : 

' ' It gave birth, or intense stimulus, to the vices of a mental habit all 
but universal at the time, disdain of positive law, impatience of experi- 
ence, and the preference of a 'priori reasoning. In proportion, too, as 
this i^hilosophy fixes its grasp on minds which have thought less than 
otlicrs and fortified themselves v/ith smaller observation, its tendency 
is to become strictly anarchical." — Ancient Law^ \). 88. 



g4 DEMOCRACY AND IIONAUCIIY W FRANCE. 

can in a revolutionary crisis raise itself in opposition 
to weak and worn-ont institutions ; but wlien this 
work of destruction is accomplislied, if it continues 
to take no account of tlie nation's history, if it j)er- 
suades itself that it has completely broken with 
the secular elements of civilization, it does not 
found a new society, but it simply perpetuates the 
state of revolution. When generations in the mo- 
mentary possession of the country have the absurd 
arrogance to believe that it belongs to them alone, 
and that the past confronting the present is simply 
death confronting life, when they thus throw off 
the empire of traditions and the bands which unite 
the successive generations to one another, they dis- 
ovfn not only the distinct and eminent character of 
the human race, but its high honor and its grand 
destiny. A people which falls into this gross error 
falls also into anarchy and abasement, for God 
does not suffer that Nature and the laws of her 
works should be misunderstood and outraged with 
impunity." ^"' 

Another influence of the writers whose works 
Ave have been considexing, and one which ought 
not to be overlooked, was that which they exer- 
cised upon the distinctively religious character of 
the people. Among the writers of the revolution- 

* Mcmoires {Edition interdite pour la France^ Leipzig', 1858), vol. I. p. 
330. Oa the same subject of tlie fatal influence of the E Esprit Revola- 
tionaire in France, see also a very able essay by 51. Paul Janet in Revue 
des Deux Mondes, vol. C. p. 721 ; also, Prevost-Paradoi, La France 
Nowodle, p. 295. Courcclle-Seneuil ; EIEHtage de la Recolution^ p. 
217. G-ervinus, GescMdite des 10. Jahrhundert, 8. Bd. 1 Tii. s. 204. 



THE PHILOSOPHEBS OF THE REVOLUTION. §5 

aiy period tlie very name of God was spoken in 
derision. The editor of a prominent encyclopaedia 
declined an article on God, saying that the belief 
in a Supreme Being was no longer entertained, and 
was no longer of interest to the French people. I 
have already referred to the declaration of an arch- 
bishop, that atheism was the accepted creed of the 
people. There can be no doubt that something of 
a reaction took place after the close of the Eevolu- 
tion, and yet it is by no means strange that when 
the belief in God had once completely lost its hold 
on cultivated minds, it was exceedingly slow in re- 
gaining its former position and influence. The re- 
ligious, or more properly speaking, the irreligious 
teachings of the philosophers of the eighteenth 
century are still exciting a powerful influence in 
the nation. Atheism has not yet gone out of 
fashion, if indeed it may not be said to be still in 
the very height of fashion. The followers of 
Renan and Vacherot are more genteel than the 
followers of Lacordaire and Hyacinthe, and among 
the intellectual classes they are probably even 
more numerous. The tone of French society is 
proverbially anti-religious. The character of this 
tone has a powerful influence even on the ecclesias- 
tical assemblies themselves. Questions are admit- 
ted into such bodies for discussion, which, by their 
very nature, show the unsubstantial basis on which 
the faith of the members rests. In many of tlieir 
recent meetings the points which liave called out 
the most earnest discussions have not been about 



gQ DEMOCRACY AlW MONARCHY IN FRANCE. 

articles of the Atlienasian creed, or tlie details of 
language concerning the sacrament, or tlie most 
efficient methods of propagating and spreading the 
truth^ but concerning the existence of the very 
basis of Christianity itself. The great question, 
even among themselves, seems to be w^hether the 
Christian religion is or is not founded on truth ; 
and if we may judge from the proceedings of the 
last general synod of the French Protestant Church, 
we should conclude that of every seven members 
four think that it is, and three that it is not. In 
June, 1871, after a prolonged and stormy debate of 
several days' duration, even a studiously vague and 
general assertion of the supernatural element in 
religion was carried in the synod by a majority of 
only sixty-one to forty-six."^'* That the declarations 
of the synod contained no assertions of the divinity 
of Clirist, may be explained by the fact that the 
assembly contained delegates from all Protestant 
denominations ; but that in any body of representa- 
tive ecclesiastics of high rank, thi^ee out of every 
seven of its members should be unwilling on a test 
vote to declare that the Christian religion has a 
supernatural basis, is a fact which can have no 
other explanation than that wdiich appears upon 
its surface. 

Such I believe to have been the political and 
religious influence of the writers whom I have 
called the Philosophers of the Revolution. Their 

* On this subject see DoUicger's Lectures on the Reunion of the 
Churches. Preface, p. xvii ; also, Pall Mall Gazette, for July 4th, 1873. 



THE PniLOSOPHEBS OF THE BEVOLUTIOJST. §7 

work was a work of destruction. They did much to 
sweep away crying evils, and so far they made their 
good influence felt and appreciated. But destruc- 
tion is never a means of growth ; the best it can 
ever do, is to remove hindrances. The author of 
" Ecce Homo " has remarked that all moral growth 
comes through admiration. It is not the man who 
sees nothing but evil in society that advances to a 
higher life and a nobler virtue ; but the one who 
recognizes a higher standard, admires it and strug- 
gles to attain it. A general revolutionary spirit 
in a nation is a spirit which sees only the evil, and 
for the sake of curing it is ready to destroy every- 
thing. It would burn the house in order to kill 
the vermin. In France it doubtless destroyed 
many evils, but it became so thoroughly the habit 
of the intellectual leaders that it continued its 
work of destruction long after its wholesome and 
legitimate labors were finished. The nation has 
suffered and is still suffering from the prevalence of 
this spirit more than from any other evil what- 
ever. 



THE POLITICS OF THE REVOLUTION. 



*' Turn Lselius, nunc fit illud Catonis certius, nee temporis 
unius, nee hominis esse constitutionem reipublicse." — Cicero^ 
De Repuhliaa^ Lib. ii . 21. 

" Ce fusl^ I'erreur de la Revolution, et en general c'est la faute 
de I'esprit frangais de traiter les theories politiques comme des 
verites matliematiques, et de leur pretsr un absolu qu'elles ne 
comportent pas." — Laboulage Histoire des Mats- Unis, vol. 
JIT. p. 292. 



CHAPTER HI. 

THE POLITICS OF THE EEVOLUTIOIT. 

T"N the last chapter I endeavored to present 
J- some of the most prominent doctrines of the 
men whom I called the Philosophers of the Eev- 
olution. I shall now attempt to show how these 
doctrines took form in actual political life, how 
they have since influenced, and even moulded, the 
character of French history. It is necessary to 
prepare the way, however, by one or two general 
observations. 

Chateaubriand has remarked that liberty is a 
thing wdiich all men long for, which but few un- 
derstand, and which no one seems able to define. 
We may not understand precisely its nature, and 
we may be unable to give to it an adequate defi- 
nition, and yet we may perhaps be sure that there 
are certain definite conditions on which alone it 
can exist. Are there then any fixed i^eculiarities 
of good government ? Are there any fundamental 
principles of such government which all men — • 
monarchists, democrats, oligarchs, republicans^ 
can agree upon as necessary? Without doubt, 
yes, there are many ; but for our purpose it will 
be sufiicient to name the one most prominent. 

Whatever may be the peculiar relations of the 



92 DEMOCRACY AND MONARCHT m FRANCE. 

governing and tlie governed in any society, it is in- 
dispensable to good government that those relations 
should be defined and understood. If they are not 
defined, there can be no liberty on the part of the 
governed, for the reason that there can be no antic- 
ipating the course to be pursued by the governing. 
The same result will ensue if those relations are 
not generally understood. If, for example, at the 
present day you go into Russia, you find no diffi- 
culty in seeing that the people at large recognize 
the fact that all the functions of government are 
in the hands of the Emperor and his subordinates. 
There is no misunderstanding. The relations of 
emperor and people are defined and understood. 
The absolutist finds, therefore, much in the Russian 
government to excite his admiration. Go, on the 
other hand, into England at the middle of the sev- 
enteenth century, and you find the nation em- 
broiled in a terrible civil war. Why ? Was it 
not because the proper relations of rulers and gov- 
erned had become enshrouded in doubt, and be- 
cause the two parties concerned could not agree 
upon what those relations should be in the future ? 
Moreover, was it not the chief result of that strug- 
gle to fix thoGe relations, and to biing king and 
people in the Declaration of Rights to an agree- 
ment concerning them ? It comes then to this, that 
there must be in every nation a certain something 
— call it a constitution, call it national custom, call 
it what you will — which restrains and fixes the 
powers of the government ; which defines and 



THE POLITICS OF THE BEVOLUTION. 93 

guarantees the rights of the governed. In Eng- 
land Parliament seems to be omnipotent. A well- 
known formula, started by De Lolme, declares that 
the only limitations of its power are that it cannot 
convert a man into a woman, or a woman into a 
man. But, after all, the limitations of parliament- 
ary power are practically innumerable. They sug- 
gest themselves to every mind. Notwithstanding 
the boasted authority of Parliament, there is some- 
thing back of those powers, something on which 
those powers rest, something, even, without which 
those powers could not exist. That something is 
the universal conviction that there are certain indi- 
vidual rights belonging to every person which may 
not be interfered with by any power ; no, not even 
by Parliament. That conviction everywhere per- 
vades the history of British legislation. It is indeed 
in the marrow and tissue of the Anglo-Saxon race. 
That spirit has sometimes been overlooked ; it has, 
indeed, sometimes been asleep ; but it has always 
been in its place, ready to assert its rights ; ready, 
if need be, to destroy its enemies. It is that spirit 
alone which can justify revolution ; that spirit 
alone which, under peculiar circumstances, not only 
may justify resistance to the laws, but also may 
make such resistance a sacred duty.*"' 

But, it is important to ])ear in mind not only the 
existence of these personal rights, ])ut also the fact 
that they are inalienable^ and cannot l)o i*epresented. 

* On tliG question of ultimate sovereij^nty, Guizot has sonic g-ood 
words in iZis^, of liep. Govt.^ Lect. VI. 



94 DEMOGBAGY AND MONARGHT IN FRANGE. 

Does tlie American, or the Englisliman, or tlie Ger- 
man, wLen lie votes for a representative to his na- 
tional legislatare, surrender to that delegate his 
personal rights ? Does he say to the man whom he 
elects, " By chosing you as my representative I not 
only delegate to you my political functions, but I 
also transfer my sovereignty over myself into your 
hands " ? By no means ; such sovereignty must 
remain intact with the individual where it belongs. 
It can be interfered with by neither king, nor pres- 
ident, nor legislature. In either case such interfer- 
ence is tyranny, and as completely so in one case as 
in another. 

Now, it is for the very purpose of preventing 
such tyranny, that in all good governments, the 
legislative, as well as the executive, power of the 
nation is hedged about with constitutional limita- 
tions. A nation as a whole cannot of course be 
permanently restrained by a constitution, for the 
reason that the same power which created it may 
change it, or even sweep it away ; the very fact, 
therefore, that the constitution, whether written 
or unwritten, puts a restraint upon the legislature, 
proves that there is a sovereignty in the nation 
which the people are unwilling to commit to the 
caprice of legislators. 

But how was it in France? The one most 
potent truth which Rousseau lodged, and lodged 
permanently, in the French brain, was that the 
peo2:)le of France are by right the sovereign rulers 
of France. But it was also his opinion that every 



THE POLITICS OF THE REVOLUTION. 95 

representative government is in its own nature a 
delusion and a snare. ■^^'' How are those two ideas 
to be reconciled? It is not quite certain that 
Rousseau attempted to reconcile them. Be that 
as it may, his followers did attempt it, and in a 
manner that has brought countless wars upon the 
nation. Their simple explanation was that the 
j)eople, themselves sovereign, by the act of choosing 
a legislature, transferred their sovereignty to the 
delegates whom they elected. What was the 
result ? Simply that the National Assembly pro- 
fessed to stand in the place of the nation, not 
merely to represent the nation, but for all the pur- 
poses of sovereignty to be the nation. At first 
sight this may appear to be not ver}^ different from 
the status of the Parliament of England. In real- 
ity, however, the difference is great and radical. 
In England the Parliament is nothing more than 
the agent of the people. The simple fact alone 
that Parliament is sometimes dismissed for the pur- 
pose of ascertaining, by means of a new election, 
the will of the people on some important question, 
is ample proof that the sovereignty is not lodged 
witli Parliament, but is still with the nation at 
large. In France, on the contrary, tlie nation sur- 
rendered its sovereignty wlien it chose the Na- 
tional Assembly. If Louis XIV. could affirm 
JjEtat c'est mol^ the National Assembly could 
make the same declaration with a thousand-fold 

* Contrat Social, Li v. III. Chap. XV. 



9G DEMOCRACY AND MONABCHT IN FRANCE. 

more assurance and a thousand-fold more truth. 
But what followed ? With unlimited power in the 
hands of a body of five hundred men, is the spirit 
of liberty to be better subserved than w^ith the 
same unlimited povfer in the hands of a single 
individual ? On the contrary, the worst tyranny 
possible is that which is inflicted by a divided, 
and, for that reason, an irresponsible, power. If 
a monarch is known to be absolute, the eyes of 
the people are concentrated upon him, and the very 
fact throws around him a restraining influence of 
enormous force. Responsibility, where it is con- 
centrated and recognized, always restrains and 
makes its possessor conservative. But if the same 
power be divided, the sense of responsibility is 
weakened, restraints vanish, and the worst results 
are to be awaited. The most tyrannical and 
oppressive governments have not, as a rule, been 
those which were absolute in theory^ Ijut those 
which have been just sufficiently limited in theory 
to distract the attention of the observer from the 
true source of the evil. This latter condition was 
what occurred in France. The people imagined 
that in allowing the functions of government to 
be performed by men whom they had elected, they 
were securing to themselves absolute liberty. But 
in fact, they secured the very worst form of 
tyranny that France has ever known. There has 
probably never been a more oppressive govern- 
ment in Euro]3e than was that of the National 
Assembly. But its oppression was unfortunately 



THE POLITICS OF THE liEVOLUTIOK 97 

not its worst feature. The saddest circumstance of 
all was the fact that it was instituted, in the name 
of liberty ; that it was believed to subserve the 
interests of liberty, even while it was doing every- 
thing to malie liberty impossible. For this reason 
liberty perished by the very means v/hich had 
been instituted to establish it. The Assembly 
proved to be the worst of all tyrannies ; the worst, 
simply because it was founded upon an idea that 
was recognized and accepted by the mass of the 
people. 

It soon became evident, however, that a govern- 
ment with so many defects and so few merits 
could not long continue. What was to be done ? 
Was it possible to change the government without 
sacrificing the principle of national sovereignty? 
The answer was perfectly easy. If a majority of 
the electors, which, in fact, is only a minority of 
the nation, represents the nation; if a majority of 
the representatives, which is merely a handful 
of men, has the same privilege, and rules over the 
nation, is there any reason why the same principle 
of representation should not be carried still 
farther,^ — ^why, in a word, the Asseml)ly should not 
delegate its authority to one man by the same pro- 
cess as that by which the nation bad transferred 
its power to the Assembly 'i This v/as the logic 
of tlie Iloman emperors, and it Avas the logic of 
the Bonapartes. And thcrci is no resisting it. 
Who does not see that if a nation may deposit 
its sovereignty in the hands of five hundred men, 



98 BEMOCBAGY AND MONARCHY IN FRANCE. 

it may also deposit it in the hands of one man ? 
There is no error in the reasoning by which the 
conclusion is reached ; all the dangers of the system 
lie concealed in the premises. 

I take it then to be fully established that in 
every good government, v^hether a monarchy or a 
republic, there must be certain rights which no 
power, either legislative or executive, can infringe 
upon with impunity. Those rights, moreover, 
must be sacredly inalienable. There must be no 
abdication of rights by means of elections. 
There must be no delegation to a handful of dep- 
uties of an absolute conti'ol over the national life. 
As in America, as in England, as in Germany, 
there must be in operation some system by means 
of which the great questions affecting the na- 
tional life may be referred for final decision to the 
general franchise of the nation. There must be 
constitutional limitations either carefully expressed, 
as in the United States, or else unwritten but no 
less truly existing in the national heart, as in Great 
Britain ; and those limitations must be equally 
binding upon the legislative and the executive 
branches of the government. 

Now one of the most marked peculiarities of the 
political life of France is that, although since the 
Revolution the nation has not been without a writ- 
ten constitution, the constitution, whatever might 
be its form, has had no binding power upon the 
representatives. The constitution formed and 
adopted yesterday by the nation, that is to say, 



Tim POLITICS OF THE BEVOLUTIOK 99 

by the representatives of tlie nation^ is to-day 
judged by the same representatives to be inade- 
quate to the wants of the hour, and accordingly 
is changed by the same power which formed it. 
The constitution which to-day is promulgated by 
the king or the emperor, happens to-morrow to 
conflict with the wishes of the representatives ; 
and what do we see ? Practically a reasoning like 
this : The sovereignty rests with the people. The 
people have chosen their monarch. The people 
are, therefore, superior to their monarch. The 
people and their representatives are the same. 
The representatives disapprove the constitution 
promulgated by the monarch, and therefore, as his 
superior, they annul it. Thus in every case the 
overthrow of the constitution seems to come from 
a confounding of the people and their representa- 
tives. The delegates, of course, cannot be bound 
permanently by any constitution which they them- 
selves have made, nor indeed by any framed and 
promulgated by a monarch whom they regard as 
their subordinate. 

There is still another element in the politics of 
the revolutionary period to which I desire to call 
attention. I mean what I believe to be the po- 
litical significance of the ideas embodied in the 
sentiment, ^' Liberty^ EqiiaUty^ and Fraternity^ 

That liVjerty, absolute and unqualified, is incom- 
])atible with civilization, and even with organized 
society of any form, I suppose there is no one to 
(Uiiiy. I will presume, therefore, that the devotees 



100 BEMOGBAGY AND MONARGHY IN FRANCE. 

of tills sentiment meant only that qnalified form 
of liberty wMcli allows of certain necessary re- 
straints. As a matter of fact, tlie word in its 
connection doubtless means tlie largest possible 
amount of personal freedom consistent wdth the 
suppression of anarchy. It means, let us admit, 
the privilege '' of pursuing our own good in our 
own way, so long as we do not attempt to deprive 
others of theirs or impede their efforts to obtain 
it." It means that " each is the proper guardian 
of his own health, whether bodily or mental or 
spiritual." It means that '^ the individual is not 
accountable to society for his actions in so far as 
these concern the interests of no person but him- 
self." '"'^ It means still further, that in society every 
person is to be allowed to exert whatever political 
influence he can without interfering with the sim- 
ilar rights of others. 

That a political organization founded on these 
ideas as its basis would be the best one, or even 
a good one, for a community of average intelli- 
gence and virtue, I think there are many reasons to 
doubt. Be that as it may, it is certain, as it seems 
to me, that such a basis of organization would be 
utterly incompatible with the prevalence of what • 
must be meant by the French meaning of the word 
Equality. It is unnecessary to give to this word 
any exact definition in order to show that this 
statement is strictly true. Whatever Equality 

* Mill on Liberty^ pp. 29 and 181. 



THE P0LIT1G8 OF THE MEYOLTJTION. IQl 

may mean, it cannot mean '^/^equalityy and in- 
equality, political as well as personal, is just what 
liberty, as Mr. Mill defines it, is sure sooner or later 
to develop. This fact is so important that I de- 
sire not to be misunderstood, and I will therefore 
illustrate what I mean by one or two examples. 
Put a hundred men with their families into a 
wilderness, or on a prairie, and oblige them to 
make their living. Pat them under no political 
restraints, but give them to the fullest extent that 
liberty which Mr. Mill so ably and eloquently 
(but, as I think, somewhat incoherently) advo- 
cates. What would be the result \ Some would 
become rich, others would barely get a living, 
others would die of starvation, or be dependent on 
their more skilful and fortunate neighbors. To 
take another example, go into one of our largest 
cities. Remove to the largest possible extent the 
resti^aints of law and of force, that is to say, give 
to all men the largest possible liberty, and what is 
the result ? It is, and it will always be, that the 
able and the unscrupulous, by means of a combi- 
nation of ability and perfidy, will rise, and rise 
rapidly, above their fellows. If it were possible 
l)y some fiat to reduce the people, say of Ne^v 
York or London, in a single day, to an absolute 
level, how long would that level continue ? Not 
a day, scarcely an hour. Not only would in- 
equality at once l^egin to show itself, but the 
rapidity with which it would grow would be iu 
exact proportion to the extent of the liberty with 



102 BEMOGBAGT AND MONARGHT IN FUANGE. 

which men of different degrees of tact and ability 
would be allowed to act. 

Take another example, and one not from the 
imagination but from history. There is no other 
large country in Europe where liberty during the 
last two hundred years has been so general and ' 
so well guarded as in England. It is certain that 
in Great Britain people of all classes have, during 
that period, had greater freedom to act than have 
the people of any other nationality. The dif- 
ferences between different men and between the cir- 
cumstances in which different men are placed have 
there, as nowhere else, been allowed to exert the 
full measure of their natural influence. The con- 
sequence has been a perfectly natural one, though, 
so far as I knoAV, it has not often been noticed. 
Nowhere else has the distance between the highest 
and the lowest classes in society become so enor- 
mous as there. While in other countries this dis- 
tance has been growing less, in England it has cer- 
tainly been grovfing greater. More than fifty 
years ago Hall am gave it as his deliberate opinion 
that the laboring classes in England at the time 
wdien he wrote w^ere relatively in a less comforta- 
ble condition than they had been four centuries 
before ; and if that author were living at the 
present day he would see, I imagine, no reason to 
change his opinion.'''* 

* " After every allowance, I should find it difficult to resist the con- 
chision that, however the laborer has derived benefit from the cheap- 
ness of manufactured commodities, and from many inventions of com- 



THE POLITICS OF THE BEYOLTJTION. |03 

ISTo doubt this tendency lias been greatly in- 
creased by the laws of entail and primogeniture, 
but they are quite insufficient to account for its 
existence. They enable a family simply to keep 
what it gets. The primal cause has been the fact 
that in England as nowhere else in Europe, men 
have been protected in their efforts to accumulate 
fortunes. By this I mean simply that there men 
have had the greatest libei'ty to exercise the gifts 
which they may happen to have, and to exercise 
them under the circumstances in which they may 
happen to be placed. We may talk about equality, 
and advocate it as long and as well as we please ; 
the stubborn fact remains, and will always remain, 
that men are not equal, and, moreover, that they 
cannot be made equal by act of Parliament. This 
natural inequality in the abilities of men and in 
the circumstances by which different men are sur- 
rounded, if not interfered tvith^ becomes greater 
and greater ; and for a reason that finds its ex- 
pression in the words " to him that hath shall be 
given, and from him that hath not shall be taken 
away even that which he hath." In England this 

mon utility, lie is mucli inferior, in ability to support a faniilj'-, to liis 
ancestom three or four centuries ago. I know not why some have sup- 
posed that meat was a luxury seldom obtained by the laborer. Doubt- 
loss he could not have procured as much as he pleased. But from tho 
greater cheapness of cattle, as compared with corn, it seems to follow 
that a more considerable portion of his ordinary diet consisted of ani- 
mal food than at present. It was remarked by Sir John Fontesque 
that the English lived far more upon animal diet than the French ; 
and it was natural to ascribe their superior strengtli and courage to 
this cause." — Hallam, Middle Ages (Now York, 1870), vol. III. p. J553. 



104 DEMOGBAar AND MONAUGHY IN FBANGE.' 

inequality lias not been interfered with, and the 
consequence is the rapid tendency to which I have 
referred. At the beginning of this century the 
real estate of England was owned by about three 
hundred and fifty thousand persons. At the pres- 
ent moment more than half of England, Ireland, 
Scotland, and Wales is declared to be in the pos- 
session of one hundred and sixty families.*"' 

In the illustrations which I have given I have 
not intended to argue either for or against the prev- 
alence of the largest amount of personal and po- 
litical liberty. It has been my design to show that 
liberty and equality in any such sense as that em- 
bodied in the celebrated French motto cannot go 
together, and, furthermore, that where there is the 
greatest amount of libei'ty, there must necessarily, 
in the long run, be the least amount of equality. 
Whether liberty on that account should be opposed 
is quite another question, and one that has nothing 
whatever to do w^ith the matter before us. I have 
dwelt upon the subject merely for the purjDose of 
explaining a certain peculiarity of the French Hev- 
olution, which I believe can be so well explained 
in no other way. Let us see how it is to be ap- 
plied in the consideration of French politics. 

At the outbreak of the Revolution a general 

* I confess that I have no other authority for this statement than 
the newspaper report of the declaration of Mr, Charles Bradlaugh, who 
was reported to have used these words in his first address in New York : 
" On our land 160 families own one-half of England, one-half of Wales, 
and more than one-half of Ireland, and four-fifths of Scotland." — Ad- 
dress of October M^ 1873, as re/ported in the Tribune. 



THE POLITICS OF THE REVOLUTION. \{)^ 

levelling process was inaugurated. Down witli the 
clergy ! down with the nobility ! down with the 
prominent men of all classes ! was the cry of the 
people. For a time it seemed as though a man had 
only to raise his head above the rest in order to 
have it stricken off. While this levelling process 
was going on, liberty and equality were equally in 
favor. The liberty which men exercised was the 
liberty to destroy their fellows, and the equality 
which they sought was that which comes not by 
building up but by putting down. The time came, 
however, when this process exhausted itself. The 
former enemies of the people wei'e all subdued, and 
it was necessary that somebody should fill their 
places. You may reduce society to a dead level, 
but you cannot keep it so. It cannot exist with- 
out officers and leaders. A ship's crew may mu- 
tiny and kill every officer on board. It may, for a 
time, perhaps enjoy absolute equality of rank and 
influence. But the moment there is an attempt 
made to move the vessel, equality vanishes. Some- 
body must decide what shall be done, and that very 
fact raises somebody to distinction. It was just 
so in France. Of course there was no inclination 
to raise into power the men whom the people had 
just overthrown; on the contrary, it was but nat- 
ural tliat tlie rej)resentativcs of the revolutionary 
ideas should be looked to for guidance. Tliis ac- 
tually happened ; and we accordingly have the 
wretched spectacle of a nation controlled for years 
by a succession of feather-brained men, tlie l)ad ef- 



105 DEMOCRACY AND MONARCHY IN FRANCE. 

fects of whose fantastic folly it is scarcely possible 
to exaggerate. These men of '^ quips and cranks 
and wanton wiles " were tlie intellectual children 
of Eousseau. When their j^arentage and educa- 
tion are considered, it cannot be regarded strange 
that instead of making the government the subject 
of national alteration, they made it an object on 
which to experiment with their rhetorical and pa- 
thetic nonsense. Still further, I think it can be 
shown that their excesses were the natural prod- 
uct of their beliefs. 

When these men of fantasy came into |)ower, 
like all political dreamers and sentimentalists, they 
believed, or appeared to believe, in the omnipotence 
of statutes. In the universal scramble, however, 
it was soon found that their fellows could not be 
voted into quiet. That liberty, for ^vhicli everybody 
was clamoring, was the right of everybody to ob- 
ject to everything and to resist everything. As 
there were necessarily more ambitious men out of 
j)ower than in power, the government at any as- 
signable moment was weaker than the opposition. 
As those in authority had no right to rule save in 
the fact that they had been chosen to rule, so their 
right ceased, or was thought to cease, when the 
preference of their constituents was changed. At 
the first exercise of authority irritation ensued. 
This was followed by recrimination ; and at last 
we behold the most terrible exercise of arbitrary 
power to be found in modern history. The Reign 



THE POLITICS OF THE BEVOLUTION. IQf 

of Terror was merely the Contrat Social put into 
practice. 

Meantime the political dreamers continuecl to 
entertain the public with their theories. The no- 
tion seems to have been general that if the right 
political and social machinery could be hit upon, 
everything would be transformed into order and 
harmony. In all their speculations there is nothing 
so pitiable as their utter failure to see that human 
nature is corrupt and selfish, and that it cannot be 
made otherwise by any political machinery or any 
act of Parliament or National Assembly. 

Open any one of the more important books of 
the time, devoted, not to political philosophy, but 
to the practical politics of the hour, and you will 
be astonished at the fanaticism there displayed. 
As examples, look at the works of Mably and 
Saint-Just. Both of these authors believed hon- 
estly that they had discovered an antidote for all 
the evils under which France was groaning. 
Mably was a bachelor and a recluse. Never 
mingling with society, he lived in a little garret, 
fi'om wliicli he looked out with melancholy eyes 
u|)ou the world. lie saw about him those who 
were very rich and very corrupt. He soon came 
to adopt as his creed, " Riches are the condition of 
corruption, poverty the condition of virtue." Set- 
ting out from these postulates, he proceeded to de- 
velop a ])olitical system, which he recommended to 
liis country for adoption. The cliildren were to bo 
I'cared in common, in order that pul)]ic morals 



108 DEMOCRACY AND MONAECHT IN FRANCE. 

miglit be controlled. He prescribed a national 
system of pMlosopliy, in order that pliilosopliy 
miglit not degenerate into impiety ; und a national 
system of religion, in order tbat religion miglit not 
decline into superstition. As wealth engendered 
corruption and avarice, be made great wealth im- 
possible by destroying all commercial traffic. He 
even took tlie trouble to volunteer some carefully 
elaborated advice to Americans. He assured our 
forefathers that, at the beginning of their nation- 
ality, they should see to it that their great cities 
were founded far from the sea-shore; ''for," said 
he, " if your cities are on the sea-shore you will 
have a great commerce, and the moment you come 
to have a great commerce you are lost." 

Still more bizarre Avas the political system of 
Saint- Just. He recommended that the entire 
youth of the nation should be devoted to two 
occupations — arms and agriculture. He decided 
that no dress other than hemp or linen should be 
allowed, that all should be required to sleep either 
on the bare ground or upon a bare floor, and that 
no one should be allowed to eat meat. Finally, in 
order that the functions of government might not 
be neglected, it was decided that every citizen 
should be allowed to vote once a year — the poor 
by right of their poverty, the rich or land-owners 
on condition of having raised four sheep in the 
course of the preceding year. '^' 

* As Laboulaye has pertinently suggested, one is curious to know 
wliat Saint-Just wovild Lave the land-owners do with their sheej), as the 



THE POLITICS OF THE REYOLTJTION. 109 

Now I have referred to Mably and Saint-Just, 
not because of their inherent importance, but be- 
cause tliey are typical examples of a large class 
of political wi'iters of that time. Our first im- 
pulse is to laugh at them, and to regard them as of 
no serious consequence whatever. And so long as 
such dreamers are confined to their own chambers, 
w^e are right ; but the moment they are abroad and 
have a j)rospect of getting the government into 
their hands, it is time to be alarmed. It would be 
no element in the problem worth consideration, if 
there were in the state simply two or three or half 
a dozen insignificant fanatics who believed that po- 
litical miracles could be wrought simply by voting 
laws, but the sad fact is that nearly all the con- 
trolling minds of France, and indeed a large pro- 
portion of the people of France, were under the 
same delusion. The danger was that these men of 
fantasy, who believed it possible and easy to re- 
generate a country simply by voting yes or no, 
would get the exclusive power of legislation into 
their hands, and thus convert their preposterous 
ideas into statutes. 

We have now before us the most important 
elements of the problem which at the end of the 
last century was thrust upon the French people 
for solution. We have seen the condition of the 
nation to be such that revolution of some kind was 



people were forbidden cither to cat meat or to wear woollen. " Per- 
haps," he adds, " they were to serve a j)olitical purj)osoas exemplars of 
oliedicuco aud]mmility."--i?^/i'^.s'- L'v/w. , vol. 1. \. 12. 



110 DEMOGBAGY AND MONABGIIY IN FBANGE. 

unavoidable. We Iiave seen springing into an all- 
pervading influence systems of ethics and meta- 
pliysics which well-nigh swept away all faith in 
the ordinary laws of morality and religion. Con- 
nected with these systems w^e have seen growing 
up, chiefly through the influence of Voltaire, that 
scoffing and mocking spirit which found its sole 
delight in the use of ridicule, — that spirit which 
might appropriately have had for its motto : What- 
ever is^ is ivrong. Then by the side of this spirit 
we have seen take its place the political philosophy 
of Rousseau ; a philosophy which not only struck 
at the vitals of all government, but which, by dint 
of the eloquence and force with which it was pro- 
mulgated, came to be accepted as the political 
creed of a large share of the ablest thinkers of the 
nation. Finally, we have seen that system which, 
in disregard of all personal rights, gives absolute 
power into the hands of the I'epresentatives, thus 
merely transferring absolutism from the throne to 
the halls of legislation. 

We may now inquire how these various ideas 
have shown their influence on the actual history 
of the nation. Let us glance at some of tlie facts 
of the Revolution. 

At length the political condition of France had 
become so utterly hopeless, that the king in 1789 
summoned a meeting of the States-Genei'al. The 
very fact was an acknowledgment of despera- 
tion, for since the days of Mary de Medicis, one 
hundred and seventy-five years before, no mon- 



THE POLITICS OF THE REVOLUTION. \\\ 

arch, had ventured to call the three estates to- 
gether. 

The moment they assembled, it became appar- 
ent how vastly, during that hundred and seventy- 
five yeaiB, public sentiment had changed. On 
the day of the opening ceremonies, half of Paris 
went to Versailles. When the representatives of 
the Tiers-Etat appeared, the air resounded with 
shouts of joy ; but the magnificent procession of 
the clergy and nobility was received with the 
deepest silence. 

Then, too, it was found that the proj)ortion of 
the dejDuties of the third estate to the whole num- 
ber was twice greater than it had ever been before. 
The representatives of the Tiers-Etat equalled in 
number those of both the other orders, though 
23reviou8ly the three estates had been represented 
by numbers about equal. Nor was that all. The 
king had unwisely neglected to determine whether 
the respective orders should meet and vote sepa- 
rately, or whether they should constitute a single 
assembly. The third estate saw that if they were 
to deliberate and vote separately, they would be 
overwhelmed by the other two orders ; accordingly 
they insisted on sitting with the clergy and nobil- 
ity. In this way they secured the full advantage 
of the superiority of their numbers. 

But notwithstanding these facts, it is probable 
that, if the king and his ministers had acted wisely, 
the woik of the Assembly might liavc been speed- 



112 BEMOCBAGT AND MONARCHY IN FRANCE. 

ily and peacefully terminated.'^' The great mass 
of the re|)resentatives had no definite plan of ac- 
tion. They were by no means free from their ac- 
customed reverence for their monarch ; they were, 
therefore, in no condition to resist any thoroughly 
matured plan of the king, and of the higher or- 
ders. The result was what should have been fore- 
seen. The blunders of the king and the vacillating 
policy of his ministers gave the third estate time to 
organize their opposition. The clergy and the no- 
bility stubbornly opposed all attempts to constitute 
a single general assembly. Conferences were at- 
tempted, but no progress was made. Thus, days 
and weeks passed away. At length Abbe Sieyes 
brought forward a motion, that the time had come 
to organize the assembly — to summon the other 
orders for an inspection of elections, and to take 
no notice of those who remained away, — to pro- 
ceed, in short, at once to the business before them. 
This motion of Sieyes was followed with a speech 
in which were embodied the extremest revolution- 
ary doctrines. " We are, as may be shown by our 
commissions," said he, ^'representatives of ninety- 
six per cent, of the whole nation ; the people is 
sovereign : we, therefore, as its representatives, 
must regard and constitute ourselves as a National 
Eepresentation. " 



* Sucli was the opinion of Mirabeau. Though, he was by far the 
ablest and most influential man in the Assembly, he hesitated to lead 
on his followers, lest their ignorance and inexperience should lead them 
to ruin. — See Yon Syhel^ Hist, of the Ft. Rev.^rol. I. p. 59. 



THE POLITICS OF THE REVOLUTION: \\^ 

Tliis, it is plain to see, was notliing less than a 
declaration of war between wliat were thought to 
be inherent rights and what were actually the ex- 
istino; forms. It was a declaration that the ma- 
jority must rule ; that if the king and the higher 
classes remained unreasonable, the sovereign peo- 
ple must proceed to administer the government 
without them. On the 17th of June, amidst the 
applause of four thousand spectators, the motion 
of Sieves was carried almost unanimously. Thus 
the third estate constituted itself as the National 
Assembly. 

Now the importance of this action can hardly be 
over-estimated. It was the formal declaration of 
the representatives of the nation that they were 
raised abo^e all existing forms to the rank of ab- 
solute rulers of France. It was the Eevolution. 
All the rest came in natural order. 

But the king and the nobles bestirred them- 
selves, and thought that they might yet circum- 
vent the Assembly. When the deputies of the 
third estate came to the hall on the 20th of June, 
they found the doors closed, to make preparations 
for a royal sitting. It was then that the leaders 
assembled their followers in the neighboring Ten- 
nis-Court, and toolc that solemn oath which Avas the 
beginning of a new era in France, — that oath by 
which they swore never to sej)arate until they had 
given to Fi'ance a free constitution, — an oath by 
wliicli most of tlieni dcwoted their own heads as a 
sacrilice to freedom and their country. Thus Louis 



114 I>EMOCEACY AND MONAUGIIY III FRANGE. 



.XVI. was deposed, and tlie ^Rational Assembly was 
placed at once on tlie throne and in the liall of leg- 
islation. 

The most important fact to be noted in this con- 
nection is that here was the enthronement in abso- 
lute power of those various principles and doc- 
trines which we have been considering. I say en- 
thronement in absolute power^ for the Assembly 
professed to be controlled by no fundamental law, 
by no established usage. Instead of finding them- 
selves obliged to conform to a fixed constitution, 
they found themselves able to frame a constitution 
which should conform to their wishes and designs. 
Now, the importance of this feature of the French 
Revolution was in the peculiar character of the 
elements of which the Assembly was constituted — ■ 
and of the peculiar views which the Assembly en- 
tertained. If it be true, as has so often been as- 
serted, that the Revohition formed a new and a 
mighty era in the history of social science, it is be- 
cause for the first time in the history of the modern 
world, if not indeed in the history of the world, 
ancient or modern, the past Avas formally renounced 
, in the legislation of the vrhole people, and a gov- 
ernment established, or attempted to be established, 
on purely speculative principles. This, more than 
anything else, is the distinctive characteristic of 
that event, and is what maizes it of such vast im- 
portance in the study of social history. Both the 
English Eevolution and our own were strictly cir- 
cumscribed by historical and hereditary custom. 



THE POLITICS OF THE BEVOLTITIOK II5 

There was notliing on wliicL Pym and Sir Jolin 
Eliot insisted with moi'e persistency and with more 
reason than this, that they were contending for 
privileges which their ancestors had enjoyed and 
to which they were entitled, not indeed by revolu- 
tionary right, but by simple historical right. In 
the last Parliament of James I., old Sir Edward 
Coke showed that the rights which they were 
claiming were embodied in the Great Charter, 
and that the Great Charter had been confirmed in 
the coarse of English history no less than fifty- 
three times. 

Of the same historical character were the discus- 
sions previous to the American Revolution. From 
1765 to 1776 the whole controversy turned upon 
what were well called the " muniments and monu- 
ments of the past." We insisted that we claimed 
nothing new, and asked only for what we were 
ready to show by the record had been confirmed 
by the possession of at least ^yq hundred years. 
What we resisted was what we stigmatized as 
change. We fought for what we called our l)irth- 
right, — the undoubted privileges of our race, settled 
upon at Runnymede, and confirmed by the Peti- 
tion of Rio:ht and the Bills of Ricrhts. 

But it was far otherwise with the French As- 
sembly in 1789. They set about pulling down the 
whole polity of France, and building it up again 
on the principles and policy of their master, Jean 
Jacques. The Revolution was founded on theories 
alone; but these were regarded as solid ground, 



415 I>EMOGBAGT AND MONABGHY m FBANGE. 

and tlie delegates proceeded to erect their fabric 
witli as mucli confidence as tliougli they were build- 
ing npon the solid foundation of the ages. "' 

But what was the character of the Assembly ? 
It was very soon manifest that there were three 
parties struggling for the mastery. The first, 
that which occupied the extreme right, contained 
all the uncompromising adherents of the old re- 
gime. These appeared to be desirous of certain 
reforms, but in principle they adhered firmly to 
royalty. Many were men of wealth ; and these, 
of course, had much to lose by revolution. They 
had an instinctive fear of disturbance ; and, there- 
fore, in all aggressive measures they were conserv- 
ative, while in defensive measures they were vio- 
lent. They were devoted to principle, but were 
for the most part quite incapable of sacrificing a 
single prejudice to the good of king or country. 
This party gradually declined in numbers and 
strength, until it dwindled into insignificance 
under the lead of such men as Maury and Caza- 
les. 

The second party, or Centre, contained the mod- 
erate men from both extremes; representatives 
who were conscious, on the one hand, of the rot- 
tenness of the old government, and who were op- 
posed, on the other, to placing the permanent con- 



* Ce futl a I'erreur de la Revolution, et en general c'est la faute de 
I'esprit frangais de traiter les theories politique comme des verites ma- 
thematiques, de leurpreter un absolu qu'elles ne comportent pas." — La- 
boulaye, Hist des Mats- Unis^ vol. III. p. 292. 



THE POLITICS OF THE BEVOLVTION, X]_7 

trol of the country in tlie hands of the revolu- 
tionists. This party probably contained the ablest 
statesman in the Assembly — men who not only 
saw all the horrors of the past, but w^ho also were 
able to foresee and foretell something of the hor- 
rors of the future. They accepted the Revolu- 
tion, not as a permanent right, but as a necessity. 
They were anxious to reform the old abuses, and 
then, as speedily as possible, to erect a new politi- 
cal system similar to that which existed in Eng- 
land. 

These men, the most prominent and worthy of 
whom were Lally-Tallendal, Malouet, and Mou- 
nier, in less troublesome times would have consti- 
tuted a reformatory party of admii'able spirit and 
of sufficient power — a party akin to that in Eng- 
land which is equally removed from the conserv- 
atism of Disraeli and the radicalism of Sir 
Charles Dilke. But in revolutionary times, criti- 
cal reason has little chance before the fiery onset 
of passion. The moderate party, with all its 
learning and eloquence, shrunk and withered be- 
fore the hot blasts of the Revolution."^ 

* M. do Lally-Tallendal explains tlie reason of his leaving the As- 
sembly in a letter to a friend, which reveals the condition of that body 
better than anything else with which I am acquaiutod. lie uses these 
words : 

" Ma santo, jo vous jure, rendait mea fonctions imjpossibles ; 
mais nijme en los mettant de cOtj il a ctj au-dcssus do nies forces de- 
supporter do plus longtoinpa Thouneur quo ino causait go sang, — cc:.^ 
totes, cette reino presqae ('(jorg'e, co roi, ameno esdaoe^ entrant li. Paris 
au milieu do ses assassins, ct proc6d6 dcs tCtcs do ses malhcnu'onx 
gardes. Ces perfides janissaircpi, cea assan^ins, cos fenimc3 cannibales, 



113 DEMOGBACY AND MONARCHY IN FRANCE. 

Then tliere was tiie Left, whicli contained all 
tlie radical elements of the revolutionary spirit. 
Here were found all the worshippers of the En- 
cyclopaedists : all the followers of Rousseau, all 
the believers in the absolute sovereignty of the 
people, all the opponents of the church and of the 
aristocracy, all the advocates of a complete trans- 
fer of political power to the masses, in a word, 
all those men who were clamoring for rights^ and 
who as yet had no conception of the fact that in a 
state there are not only rights to be enjoyed, but 
duties to be performed. 

In every revolution there are to be found men 
of this character; the peculiarity of the First 
Revolution was that they were sufficiently strong 
in numbers and influence to constitute the domi- 
nant party in the Assembly. This party held the 
horrors of the old regime ever before their eyes, 
and they imagined that its destruction could never 



ce cri de tous les :6veques a la lanterne, dans le moment ou le 
roi entre sa capitale avec d-3ux cveques de son conseil dans sa voiture, 
un coup de fusil, que j'ai vu tirer dans im des carrosses de la reine^ 
M. Bailly appellant cela un lean jour, — I'assemblee ayant declare 
froidement le matin, qu'il n'etait pas de sa dignite d'aller toute entiere 
environner le roi, — M. Mirabeau disant impunement dans cette assem- 
blee, que le vaisseau de Tetat, ,loin detre arrete dans sa course, 
s'elancerait avec plus de rapidite qae jamais vers sa regeneration, M. 
Bernave, riant avec lui, quand des flots de sang coulaient autour de 
vous, le vertueux Mounier echappant par miracle a vingt assassins, qui 
avaient voulu f aire de sa tete un trophee de plus : voila ce qui me fit 
jurer de ue plus mettre le pied dans cette camrne dAuthroiJophages 
(the National Assembly) oti je n'avais plus de force d'elever la voix, oil 
depuis six semaines je I'avais elevee en vain." Quoted by Burke : 
Works, vol. iii. p. 338. 



THE POLITICS OF THE REVOLUTION. II9 

be too complete. Their mistake was not in a 
vigorous onset upon the old abuses, but in suppos- 
ing that everything connected with the former 
condition of things was a part of the evil. The 
king, the court, the clergy, the nobility, the par- 
liaments were all alike looked upon with aversion 
and distrust. Whatever favored these, no matter 
however indirectly or moderately, received their 
violent 023position ; whatever was opposed to these, 
no matter howev^er unreasonably, was treated with 
admiration or indulgence. 

This spirit of the Left made itself apparent the 
moment the great questions of the hour were 
brought forward for discussion. The most influ- 
ential man in the party at that time was without 
doubt Lafayette. He brought forward the Bill 
of Eights. That famous document may be abbre- 
viated into these three propositions : 

All men are free and equal ; all men have a 
right to resist oppression ; all sovereignty has its 
origin with the people, and consequently no indi- 
vidual can exercise authority unless it be entrusted 
to him by the people. 

Now, it is well to observe carefully the import 
of these 2:>ropositions. They were not simply a 
general declaration that all men ought to be edu- 
cated for self-government, and wdien so educated 
ought to have self-government, but they were a 
l)old enunciation of the dogma that tlie govern- 
ment should be hy the peoples, wliatever th(^ condi- 
tion of the people. 



120 DEMOCRACY AND MOJS'ARCHT IN FRANCE. 



One lias only to call to mind tLe fact that, at 
tlie moment of wliich I am speaking, tlie masses 
of France were sunk in the deepest ignorance, and 
the higher orders in unparalleled immorality, to 
understand how difficult, nay, how impossible, it 
was there to establish and to maintain such a gov- 
ernment. But that was not all, nor, indeed, was 
it the worst. The Bill of Rights, instead of claim- 
ing equality before the law, demanded actual 
equality, and j)roclaimed the light of every indi- 
vidual to resist every unpopular law. What was 
this but doing away with every existing govern- 
ment ? It was raising to absolute power, not the 
collective will of the whole community, but the 
caprice of individual wills. The adoption of the 
bill by tlie National Assembly was simply chang- 
ing the conirat social of Rousseau from the ab- 
stract to the concrete. It was giving to anarchy 
the authority and sanction of the statute. It made 
every violation of law lawful. 

This done, there were other questions which ob- 
truded themselves for immediate settlement. In 
the future government of France, was the legisla- 
ture to consist of one house or of two houses ? 
The violent revolutionists of the Left clamored 
loudly for one, and they carried their point, ap- 
parently for no better reason than that govern- 
ments had always found the greatest safety and 
permanency in two. Then, again, the question 
arose whether the king was to have any part in 
the formation of the new constitution. Those who 



THE POLITICS OF THE BEVOLUTIOK 121 

would deny him this right were largely in the 
minority, but they were again clamorous, while 
the king's counsellors and friends were weak and 
divided. Thus again the Extremists were victori- 
ous, and the king was deprived of his veto. 

In this way the Constitution of 1793 was 
formed. The National Guard was now under the 
command of General Lafayette ; the National As- 
sembly was practically in the hands of the Ex- 
treme Left. 

And now what was the result ? Scarcely had 
the Constitution of '93 been launched, when the 
fatal error of the whole business showed itself. 
The worst was not simply that unlimited power 
had now passed into the hands of bad men, as 
unaccustomed as they were unworthy to yield it, 
— though that would seem to have been bad 
enough ; — it was that the principles which had 
been promulgated declared to every man in the 
realm that he was the j^dge of his own cause and 
complaint, and furthermore that he had the same 
right to rebel against the Assembly that the As- 
sembly had exercised in rebelling against the gov- 
ernment of Louis XVI. Then occurred that 
fierce struggle between the most turbulent ele- 
ments of the nation, the struggle which history 
has christened the Eeign of Terror. 

Of the horrors that ensued it is no })art of my 
purpose to S])eak. It is in this connection enough 
to say, that they were; sufficient to convince tlie 
nation that some form of governnunit was a neccs- 

G 



122 DEMOCBACY AITD MONARCHY IN FRANCE. 



1 



sity. Some form of government ? Yes, precisely 
that ; for during two years, it is not inaccurate to 
say there was in France no government whatever. 
The principle seemed to be that every man was 
to wield whatever power he could clutch and 
make himself master of. At length, in 1795, the 
nation, wearied and crushed, was willing to turn 
over the formation of a constitution to men of 
established courage and integrity. 

Perhaps the Constitution of 1795 or of the 
year III., taken as a whole, was the best that 
France has ever had. And yet at one point it 
was fatally weak. The nation could not endure 
the thought of a king, nor was it willing to en- 
trust its fortunes to the hands of a single presi- 
dent. The new constitution, therefore, committed 
the error of conferring the executive power upon 
live persons, to be known as a Directory. To 
make a bad matter worse, the Convention decided 
that all the members of the Directory should be 
chosen from a certain one of the political parties. 
The immediate consequence was that the Directory 
fell under the control of Barras, one of the most 
corrupt men of the time ; and the advantages 
that appeared to have been gained were found 
to be pure chimeras. For the purpose of bring- 
ing the country to a condition of rest, or, indeed, 
for the purpose of giving it a vigorous administra- 
tion, the new constitution was found to be no 
more efficient than the old. 

France had now tried two constitutions, and 



THE POLITICS OF THE REVOLUTION. 123 

both had failed. It was not altogether strange, 
therefore, that a reaction took place. A party 
arose which was bold enough to deny the power 
of constitutions to work miracles. This new 
party soon took one step further and began to 
question whether the state ought to have any 
constitution whatever. 

The mouth-piece of the new political sect was 
Joseph de Maistre. In 1796, he published his 
Considerations su?' la France, The work con- 
tained all the spirit and all the disdain of the old 
regime. He had a summary way of settling all 
difficult questions by announcing his own theories, 
and then by declaring that all who differed from 
him were imbeciles. His j)et theory was that the 
people of a nation are politically perpetual chil- 
dren, and that they are to be cared for by kings, 
as minors are to be cared for by parents. An- 
other notion of his was that a state which has a 
constitution is no longer free. ^'You give to 
yourselves a constitution, and what have you done ? 
You have bound yourselves," he answers, "and, 
therefore your liberty is gone." It was one of 
the ideas that Rousseau had advanced, the very 
idea which keeps savages from civilization. 

De Maistre and his school of writers had their 
followers and their influence ; a fact that is chiefly 
important as showing that no absurdity failed in 
those days to win to itself disciples. 

The practical consequence of all these diverse 
theories in politics and in philosophy was just 



124 BEMOGRAGY AND MONARGHY IN FRANCE. 

wliat ^j;r^6>r^ we should be led to suppose. The 
work of destruction was one of great ease; a 
work, indeed, wliich required, not careful thought, 
but energetic physical force, and such physical 
force the Revolution was in every way fitted to 
provide. The exercise of liberty was so exhilarat- 
ing, that men under the impulses of it were in- 
spired with a heroism and a power which aston- 
ished the whole of Europe. But at length the 
work of destruction had to cease ; something had 
to be created to be put into the place of that 
which had been destroyed. 

The Republic, before which all Europe trem- 
bled, had to be organized in a positive and per- 
manent form ; and the form determined upon was 
the Directory. But no sooner were the Directors 
in power, than the evil influence of those revolu- 
tionary ideas of which I have spoken began pain- 
fully to show their influence. The government 
had at its disposal a formidable army, and per- 
haps the greatest generals that had appeared in 
the world since the downfall of Rome, and yet it 
began to totter the very instant it arose. In its 
infancy, it was devoured by innumerable diseases ; 
during the whole of its short life it steadied itself 
with diflficulty and seemed on the point of falling 
under the weischt of its follies and vices. 

And yet, it would be a mistake to suppose that 
the Directory fell from want of j)ower. De 
Tocqueville declares emphatically that it had 
more power than any of the monarchs under the 



TEE POLFTICS OF TEE REVOLUTION. 125 

old regime. But liis words on this whole subject 
are so imjDortant that I quote them at length : 

" After the 18 th Fructidor, more powder was 
conferred on the Du'ectory than had ever belonged 
to ihQ dynasty which the Revolution had over- 
thrown." '^The most cruel of the law^s of 1793 are 
less barbarous than many of those passed in 1797, 
1798, and 1799. The laws which banished, with- 
out trial, the representatives of the people and the 
newspaper-writers to Gruiana ; that which author- 
ized the Directory to imprison or transport at will 
any priests whom it should consider dangerous ; 
the graduated income-tax, which, under the name 
of the forced loan, deprived the rich of the whole 
of their revenues ; and, lastly, the famous law of 
hostages ; have a finished and skilful atrocity that 
did not belong even to the laws of the Conven- 
tion, and yet they did not reawaken terror. The 
men who proposed them were as bold and un- 
scrupulous as tlieir predecessors, and perhaps more 
intelligent in the devices of tyranny. It is the 
most striking fact of all, that these measures were 
voted almost without discussion, and promulgated 
without resistance. While most of the laws 
which prepared and established the Reign of 
Terror were warmly contested and excited the 
opposition of a great part of the country, the 
laws of the Directory were silently accepted. 
But they never could be completely enforced, and 
(this observation deserves especial attention) the 
same cause aided their birth and deadened their 



120 BEMOGBAGT AND MONARCHY IN FRANCE. 

effect. The Kevolution had lasted so long, that 
France, enervated and dispirited, had neither sur- 
prise nor reprobation left to manifest when the 
most violent and cruel laws were propounded ; 
but this very moral debility made the daily appli- 
cation of such laws difficult. Public opinion no ' 
longer lent its aid ; it opposed to the virulence of 
the government a resistance, languid indeed, but 
on account of its languor, almost impossible to 
put down. The Directory wasted its strength in 
this endeavor." '^' 

Such was the feeble and desperate condition of 
the law-making power ; such the languor of public 
opinion concerning the nature of the laws which 
were enacted. 

But what was the real political condition of the 
country, not at the moment when the Directory 
came into power, but after it had been four years 
in the control of affairs ? 

An answer can in no other way be so well 
given as by quoting further the description of De 
Tocqueville. It is well known that this distin- 
guished author at the time of his death was en- 
■ gaged u|)on a work which was to be a continua- 
tion of IjAncien Regime, After spending many 
years in the study of the provincial archives of 
France, he brought to the work of composition an 
extraordinary sagacity enriched by the most com- 
prehensive knowledge and the most mature re- 

* Be Tocqueville^ Memoir and Remains ^^ol. I. p. 265. 



THE POLITICS OF TEE BEVOLUTIOK 127 

flection. Of the two chapters which were found 
after the author's death to be in a condition for 
publication, that on France before the Consulate 
is perhaps the most remarkable that he ever 
wrote. I know not where, in all historical litera- 
ture, there is anything better of its kind, unless, ' 
perhaps, it be the description, by Thucydides, of 
the political condition of Greece just before the 
outbreak of the Peloponnesian war. ^' The extra- 

* Indeed, the resemblance between the condition of G-reece at the 
time alluded to, and the condition of France just before the beginning' 
of the Napoleonic wars, is exceedingly striking , It would require but 
little alteration in the way of substituting modern, in the places of 
ancient, names and places, to make of the 82d, 83d, and 84th chapters 
of the Third Book of Thucydides, the most vivid and most powerful 
description of French society duriag the French Revolution ever writ- 
ten. How admirably does the following passage, for example, de- 
scribe one of the phases of French society : ' ' The states then were 
torn by sedition, and the later instances of it in any part, from having 
heard what had been done before, exhibited largely an excessive re- 
finement of ideas, both in the eminent cunning of their plans, and in 
the monstrous cruelty of their vengeance. The ordinary meaning of 
words was changed by them as they thought proper. For reckless dar- 
ing is regarded as courage that is true to its friends ; prudent delay, 
as specious cowardice ; moderation, as a cloak for unmanliness ; being 
intelligent in everything, as being useful for nothing. Frantic violence 
was assigned to the manly character ; cautious plotting was a specious 
excuse for declining the contest. The advocate for cruel measures was 
always trusted, while his opponent was suspected. lie that plotted 
against another, if successful, was reckoned clever; he that sus- 
pected a plot, still cleverer. While struggling by every means to 
obtain an advantage over each other, they dared and carried on 
the most dreadful deeds ; heaping on still greater vengeance, not 
only so far as was just and expedient for the state, but to the 
measure of what was pleasing to either party in each successive 
case : and whether by an unjust sentence, or condemnation, or on gain- 
ing ascendency by a strong hand, they were ready to glut the animosity 
they felt at the moment. Thus piety was in fashion with neither party ; 
but those who had the luck to effect some odious purpose under fjur 



128 DEMOCRACY AND MONARCHY IN FRANCE. 

ordinary merit of the work, and tlie fact that it 
forms so fit a conclusion of what I have been say- 
ing, I deem sufficient excuse for quoting it at un- 
usual length : 

" No sooner had the sovereign power returned 
to the cor2JS legislatif than universal debility per- 
vaded the administration throughout the country. 
Anarchy spread from private individuals to offi- 
cials. ISTo one resisted, — no one obeyed. It was 
like a disbanding army. The taxes instead of be- 
ing ill paid were not paid at all. In every direc- 
tion conscripts preferred highv/ay robbery to re- 
joining the army. At one time it seemed as 
though not only order, but civilization itself, were 
to be overturned. Neither persons nor property, 
nor even the high-roads, were safe. In the corre- 
spondence of the public functionaries of the gov- 
ernment, still preserved in the National Archives, 
is a description of these calamities ; for, as a min- 
ister of that time said, ' The accounts given to the 
nation should be reassuring ; but in the retreat not 
exposed to the public eye, where the government 
deliberates, everything ought to be told.' 

" I have before me one of these secret reports, 
that of the Minister of Police, dated the oOth Fruc- 
tidor, an. YII. (the 16th September), on the con- 
dition of the country. I gather from it that at 

pretences were the more highly spoken of. The neutrals among- the 
citizens were destroyed by both parties ; either because they did not 
join in the quarrel, or for envy that they should so escape/' — Bk. III. 
chap. 83. 



THE POLITICS OF THE REVOLUTION. 129 

that time, of the eiglity-six departments into whicli 
France (properly so called, for I except the re- 
cent acquisitions by conquest) was divided, forty- 
five were abandoned to disorder and civil war. 
Troops of brigands forced open the prisons, assas- 
sinated the police, and set the convicts at liberty ; 
the receivers of taxes were robbed, killed, or 
maimed ; municipal officers murdered, land-owners 
imprisoned for ransom or taken as hostages, lands 
laid waste, and diligences stopped. Bands of two 
hundred, of three hundred, and of eight hundred 
men overspread the country. Gangs of conscripts 
resisted everywhere, arms in hand, the authorities 
Avhose duty it was to control them. The laws 
were disobeyed in all quarters ; by some to follow 
the impulse of their passions, by others to follow 
the practices of their religion ; some profited by 
the state of affairs to strip travellers, others to 
ring the long-silent church-bells, or to carry the 
banners of the Catholic faith through the deserted 
church-yards. 

" The means used to suppress disturbances were 
at once violent and insufficient. We read in these 
reports that often when a refractory conscript 
tried to escape from the soldiers, they killed him 
as an example. The private dwellings of the citi- 
zens were continually exposed to domiciliary visits. 
Moving columns of trooj)s, almost as disorderly 
as the bands which they pursued, scoured the 
country and extorted ransoms for want of pay or 
rations. 

G* 



130 DEMOGBAGT AND MONARCHY IN FRANCE. 

" Paris was cowed. She slept, but uneasily and 
disturbed by fearful dreams. A thousand differ- 
ent prophecies of some terrible outbreak are circu- 
lated through the city. Some say a great move- 
ment will be made against the Directory, in favor 
of democracy — others think it will be on the royal- 
ist side ; a huge fire is to give the signal. Men 
have been heard to say, ^ It is foolish to pay one's 
rent, for a blow will be struck that will settle 
every debt ; blood will shortly be shed.' Such is 
the language of the reports." 

"It is curious," continues the author, in com- 
menting upon the character of these reports, " to 
observe the despair into which the sight of this 
universal confusion throws the reporters ; the 
causes that they assign and the remedies which 
they propose. The citizens are in absolute apathy, 
say some ; public spirit is utterly destroyed, say 
others. Here we find it asserted that the brigands 
find asylums everywhere ; in another place it is 
said that the manoeuvres of different parties and 
the impunity of crime are viewed by patriots with 
deplorable indifference. A few ask for measures 
against the supporters of fanaticism ; many wish 
for still more stringent laws against emigrants, 
priests, and nuns. The greater number are full of 
astonishment, and consider all that is going on as 
incomprehensible. The secret disease which sur- 
prised the agent of the Directory, the unknown 
and hidden evil which was sapping the life of 
authority, was the state of public opinion and 



THE POLITICS OF THE REVOLUTION: l^\ 

public morals, — France refused to obey lier gov- 
ernment. 

^' This secret moral resistance sufficed to para- 
lyze a government which had no internal force or 
vitality. Often in our own day we have seen the 
executive survive the legislative functions. While 
the paramount powers in the state were expiring or 
already overthrown, the subordinate powers still 
continued to conduct affairs with regularity and 
firmness. They were times of revolution but not 
of anarchy. The reason is, that now in Fi'ance the 
actual executive government forms, to a considera- 
ble extent independently of the sovei eign, a special 
administrative body, with habits, rules and instru- 
ments of its own, so that it is able for a certain 
period to present the phenomenon of a headless 
trunk still proceeding on its way. Nothing similar 
existed at the time of which we are speaking. The 
old authorities were overthrown without any in re- 
ality being as yet substituted. The administration 
was as incoherent and disorderly as the nation ; as 
much without rules, without hierarchy, and without 
traditions. The Reign of Terror had been able to 
work Avith this ill-made and ill-adjusted machinery. 
To return to it had become impossible, and in the 
failure of public spirit the whole political machine 
fell at once to pieces. 

" The French nation, after having l)een passionate- 
ly attached to liberty in 1789, loved her no longer 
in 171)0, though no other o})j(;ct had engaged 
her affections. IIavin'>: at one time bestowed on 



132 BEMOCBAGT AND MONARCHY IN FRANCE. 

her a thousand imap^inary charms, they now could 
not see even the merits that she really possessed, 
they could feel only her inconveniences and her 
dangers. For the last ten years, indeed, they had 
found her little else. According to the stormy ex- 
pression of a contemporary, the republic had been 
nothing but a restless slavery. At what other 
period in history had the habits of men been so 
violently interfered with, and when did tyranny en- 
ter so deeply into the details of private life ? What 
feelings and what actions had been left free? 
What habits or what customs had been respected ? 
The private citizen had been forced to change the 
days of his work and rest, his calendai-, his table of 
weights and measures, even his terms of speech. 
While obliged to bear his part in ceremonies which 
appeared to liim ridiculous and profane, he was not 
allowed to worship except in secret. He broke the 
law whenever he obeyed his conscience or indulged 
his taste. I know not if a similar state of things 
could have been endured for so long by any other 
nation, but there is no limit to our patience, nor 
again to our resistance, on different occasions. 

" Often during the course of the Revolution the 
French thought they were on the point of finding 
a happy termination of this great crisis ; sometimes 
they trusted in the constitution, sometimes in the 
Assembly, and sometimes in the executive itself. 
Once or twice they trusted to their own exertions, 
which is always the last resource. All these hopes 
had been deceived, all these attempts had been in 



THE POLITICS OF THE BEVOLUTIOK I33 

vain. The marcli of the Revolution was not ar- 
rested. Great changes, indeed, were no longer ef- 
fected, but a continual agitation was kept up. The 
wheel, it is true, carried nothing with it, but it 
seemed likely to go round and round forever. 

" It is difficult to imagine, even in these days, the 
extreme fatigue, apathy, indifference, or rather 
contempt for politics, into which such a long, ter- 
rible, and barren struggle had thrown men's minds. 
Many nations have presented a spectacle of the 
same nature, but as every nation brings its own 
peculiar character into a situation resembling that 
in which others have been placed, on this occa- 
sion the French appeared to abandon themselves to 
fate, with a feverish, passionate intoxication. De- 
spairing of escape from their misfortunes, they de- 
termined not to think about them. The amuse- 
ments of Paris, says a contemporary, are not now 
interrupted for a single instant, either by the ter- 
rible events that take place, or by the fear of future 
calamities. The theatres and public places were 
never so crowded. At Tivoli you hear it said that 
things will soon be worse than ever; patriotism is 
sneered at, '^' and through it all we dance. One of 
the police reports says, that on the pedestal of the 
statute of Liberty has been placed this inscription : 
* Our Government resembles the Funeral Service ; 
there is no Gloria, no Credo ; a long Offertory, and 

* "On appcllc la Patric la Patraque/' Patraquo is slang for an old, 
worn-out macliiuo or cart. 



134 I>EMOGEACY AND MONARCHY IN FRANCE . 

no Benediction at tlie end.' Fashion was never so 
despotic nor so capricious. It was a strange phe- 
nomenon that despair revived the frivolity of for- 
mer times. New features, however, were intro- 
duced. Our manners became eccentric, disorderly, 
in fact, revolutionary ; trifles as well as serious 
things no longer knew rule or limit. 

''The last thing abandoned by a party is its 
phraseology, because, among political parties, as 
elsewhere, the vulgar make the laDguage, and the 
vulgar abandon more easily the ideas that have 
been instilled into it than the words that it has 
learnt. When one reads the harangues of the 
time, it seems as if nothing could be said simply. 
Soldiers are called warriors ; wives, faithful com- 
panions ; children, pledges of love. Duty is never 
mentioned — virtue takes its place ; no one ever 
promises less than to die for his country and for 
liberty. The contemptible part is, that most of 
the orators who delivered these speeches were 
themselves almost as wearied, as disgusted, and as 
cold as their hearers ; but it is a sad necessity to 
violent passions in their decline, that long after 
they have lost all influence over the heart, the ex- 
pressions that once were natural to them survive. 
Any one who had derived all his information fi'om 
the newspapers might have imagined that he lived 
in the midst of a nation passionately fond of lib- 
erty, and interested in public affairs. Their lan- 
guage had never been more inflated, nor their de- 
mands more clamorous, than when they were on 



THE POLITICS OF TEE REVOLUTION. 135 

the eve of fifteen years of silence. To ascertain 
tlie real power of the press, attention should be 
paid, not to what it says, but to the way in which 
the public listens. Its very vehemence is some- 
times a forerunner of its entire extinction; its 
clamors are often the proof of its perils. It 
screams only because its audience is growing deaf, 
and this very deafness makes it safe to silence it." '^' 
To this graphic description of De Tocqueville I 
shall only add that French society, in this condi- 
tion, was simply waiting for a master ; the only 
question now was as to who and what that mas- 
ter should be. 

* Memoir and Remains of Alexis De TocgueviUe (English Translation 
with Additions), London, 1861, vol. I. p. 268. 



THE RISE OF NAPOLEONISM. 

Arfjjiov rs av apxovto? advvara /xr/ ov Kaxotrjra 
£yyiye(D^av xaKorriro^ roivvv eyyivopievr/? €$ ra 
KOiva, eX^soc jdtv ovk eyyivetai roiai naxolaiy cpikiai 
dh. iGxi^poii' 01 yap xaKOvvre^ ra KOiva, avyxv- 
^avrei Ttoievai, ravto 6k toiovro yivsraiy e? o av 
Ttpoard? ti? rov dr//j,ov rov^ roiovrov? Ttavffi]. ex Se 
avt(2)v ^ GO )j,d8,sr ai ovtoi di) vrco rov drf)xoVy ^oo- 
/la^ojJ-evo^ Se av d)v icpavrf jxovvapxo'i ecov. — HeroD" 
OTUS, Book III., Chap. 82. 

Napoleon, though gigantic in war and in legislation, was 
imperfect and incoherent in both. He deprived France not 
only of liberty, but of the wish for liberty ; he enveloped her 
in a network of centralization, which stifles individual and cor- 
porate existence, and prepares the way for the despotism of an 
assembly or of an emperor. — De Tocqueville, Memoir and 
Remains^ vol. II., p. 108. 



CHAPTER IV. 

THE EISE OF KAPOLEONISM. 

THE most difficult political problems that a 
nation has to grapple with are those which 
arise at the close of its civil wars ; and the ques- 
tions then demanding solution are likely to be es- 
pecially perplexing if the party which threw itself 
into rebellion has succeeded in winning its cause. 
A revolution is the result of real or imagined op- 
pression ; and oppression, whether real or imag- 
inary, never fits a people or a party for the better 
exercise of political functions. Whenever a class 
of peo2:)le, therefore, which has been long op- 
pressed, finds itself, by reason of the fortunes of 
war, suddenly raised to a political ascendency, it 
always finds itself at the same time confronted 
with difficulties which neither its training nor its 
experience has qualified it to surmount. To find 
the enemy and to overwhelm him requires a far 
less comprehensive talent than that needed to 
mould the new elements, hostile as well as 
friendly, into such a government as shall embody 
the political theories of the victorious party. It 
is for this reason that many a time a political 
party, under the lead of a skilful general, has suc- 
ceeded in completely vanquishing its enemies in 



140 DEMOGBAGY AND MOWABGHT IN FBANGE, 

the field, only to fall a speedy prey to surprising 
and overwlielming difficulties in the cabinet. 
There is nothing plainer than that revolutions, 
begun in the interests of the common people, have 
often, even when apparently successful, ended in 
a more complete centralization and oppression. 
Perhaps the most remarkable example of this 
abandonment of the fruits of victory, in modern 
history, is afforded by France at the close of the 
great Revolution. 

For a long time- it was a fond notion with a cer- 
tain class of writers, especially of French writers, 
that the government built up by Napoleon I. was 
but the substantial embodiment and establishment 
of those principles which impelled the nation into 
the civil war. Of late, however, the scales have 
fallen from a great many eyes, and even French 
historians are coming^ to estimate in their true 
character the labors and the permanent influence 
of the first French Emperor. The great work of 
Lanfrey alone has been enough to dispel a multi- 
tude of illusions. I imagine it would be difficult 
for any one to follow his volumes through honestly 
without being profoundly impressed with the fact 
of the transformation to which I have alluded. 
At the time when the Revolution was at its 
fiercest heat, for example, the all-absorbing theory 
of the revolutionists was that France should not 
be controlled by any one man, but by the masses 
of the people at large. In the reign of Napoleon, 
however, the people were as destitute of power 



THE RISE OF NAPOLEONISM. 



141 



and influence as tliey had been in the days of 
Louis XIV. The revolutionists stoutly maintained 
that the executive branch of the government, no 
less than the legislative, should be under the con- 
trol of thejpeople ; but JSTapoleon raised himself to 
power without consulting the will of the people, 
and then crowned his work of usurpation by re- 
establishing the principle of hereditary succession. 
The Revolution designed to give the largest possi- 
ble power into the hands of a representative legis- 
lature ; but the Emperor reduced the power of 
the legislature practically to nothing. In short, 
during the Revolution we find the people daring 
everything and suffering everything for the sake 
of a democratic republic; while in the time of the 
Empire we find the same people equally enthusi- 
astic in support of an imperial and hereditary 
monarchy. 

But the question at once arises as to how far 
this change of form was the result of a change of 
political doctrines. Had the French people aban- 
doned their republican principles as unsound or 
impracticable ; or, on the other hand, had they 
been deceived into the belief that, while they were 
having an empire in form, tliey were in reality en- 
joying the benefits of a republic ? The latter was, 
witliout doubt, substantially the fact. Tlioiigh 
under Napoleon I, just as later under Napoleon 
HI., the intelligence of tlie nation saw clearly 
enough through the thin vchI of i-epubllcauisni, and 
though it understood perfectly tlie imperial char- 



142 I>EMOGnAGT AND MONARCHY IN FMANGB. 

acter of the government, yet it would appear that 
the common people failed utterly to recognize the 
impossibility of having a republican government 
under a hereditary emperor. It may be said that 
both of the emperors maintained their hold upon 
the nation through two classes of people, — the first 
embracing a small but intelligent minority, who 
believed in an absolute government as the best 
which the nation could have ; the second, made up 
of the vast but ignorant majority, who were easily 
deluded into the belief that because they were 
allowed the right of sufcage, and were occasion- 
ally consulted, they were exercising a real influ-- 
ence on the character of the government. With 
the firm support of the former class in the cabinet, 
and with the overwhelming numbers of the latter 
as a kind of ultimate court of appeal, Napoleon- 
ism was for a long time able to sustain itself, even 
in opposition to the great mass of the intelligence 
of the nation. When at last it gave way, the 
world expressed its surprise and fell to studying 
the causes of the disaster. What had long been 
understood by the most intelligent observers came 
now, on closer observation, to be generally ad- 
mitted, namely, that Napoleonism was imperial in 
character, as well as in name, and furthermore, 
that it owed its success strictly to its imperial 
characteristics. So far as it was imperial, it was \ 
strong ; while so far as it professed to be republi- ' 
can or democratic, it was simply a system of ap- 
pearances without substance, and of pretence with- 



THE RISE OF NAPOLEONISM. 143 

out reality. Tliat it could have retained its place, 
even as long as it did retain it, if it had not pro- 
fessed democratic principles, there is no reason 
whatever to believe ; but whether it could or could 
not have done so, of the fact of its essential char- 
acter, there can no longer be any reasonable doubt. 
The rise of this fraudulent system out of the ruins 
of the Revolution it is liow my purpose to examine. 

At the moment when the first Bonaparte ap- 
peared upon the political stage, the Revolution 
was in its most chaotic condition. The atrocious 
excesses of the Reign of Terror had deprived the 
country of the services of the best talent, and the 
powers of the government had fallen into the 
hands of men equally remarkable for their brutal- 
ity and their incapacity. The original purpose of 
the Revolution seemed to have been entirel^T- for- 
gotten. The coup (Tetat of the Mountain had been 
a successful attempt of the minority to get control 
of the majority ; it was indeed a virtual abandon- 
ment of the principles for which the first blows of 
the Revolution had been struck. The disorders 
which arose as a pure result of this action were in- 
numerable, and, from that time on, the nation pre- 
sents the sad picture of half a score of factions 
grappling in a death-struggle with one another, 
not for the sake of principle, but solely for the 
sake of ])ower. 

No party had become so completc^ly triumphant 
as to be sure of ])ermanent rule; no faction had 
obtained s<i exclusive an inthicnce as to discouraire 



144 DEMOGBAGY AND MOWARGHY IN FRANCE, 

the ambition of tlie aspiring and tlie violent. And 
tMs was not all, nor was it the worst. For rea- 
sons which in the last chapter I endeavored to pre- 
sent, there was prevailing in the nation so notable 
a want of moral tone, as well as so morbid a crav- 
ing for the sensational, that the peo]3le were in no 
condition to be repelled by the most audacious 
scrupulousness, or to be shocked by the most atro- 
cious crimes. It would not be easy to imagine a 
field ]3resenting larger possibilities to a great, bad 
genius like Napoleon, than that which o^^ened be- 
fore him during the latter days of the Revolution. 

It is a fact of great importance, and one on 
which Mr. Lanfrey in his recent history has laid 
great stress, that the education of Napoleon was 
in closest harmony with the spirit of his country. 
The "bias of his character," was early fixed, per- 
haps even at the time of his birth. The island on 
which the family of Bonapartes had its home, 
had scarcely emerged from the Middle Ages. Cor- 
sica, in its struggle for independence, had fought 
with an unscrupulous desperation worthy of the 
most ferocious Italian republic. The Bonaj)artes 
were high in rank and influential in society. They 
threw everything into the contest. But at last the 
end came ; for no amount of heroism and devotion 
could resist the overwhelming power of Finance. 
The last standard of Corsica went down in 1769, 
and two months after that event Napoleon was born. 

But even when France had taken possession of 
Corsica, the* island was by no means subdued. 



THE BISE OF NAPOLEONISM. 145 ' 

With that tenacious persistency of opposition 
which, nearly two thousand years before, had so 
successfully defied the Romans, the Corsican" chiefs 
threw themselves into the mountain fastnesses, 
and had to be hunted out one by one. Their 
struggle was in many respects similar to the strug- 
gle of the Saxons against the Normans in Eng- 
land. The contest threatened to be perpetual, 
and it was in the infancy of Napoleon that this 
slow work of conquest was going on. Stories of 
these bloody deeds were the first intellectual food 
with which the mother, burning with patriotic 
hatred, fed the precocious imagination of her 
child. In 1789 Bonaparte wrote to the Corsican 
chief Paoli : " I was born when my country was 
sinking ; the cries of the dying, the groans of the 
oppressed, and the tears of despair surrounded my 
cradle from my birth." 

Perhaps these facts were enough to explain 
Bonaparte's early transformation from childhood 
into manhood. If it be true, as he himself once 
affirmed, that men mature suddenly on the field 
of battle, it is no less the fact that the turmoils of 
civil war are destructive of all the best character- 
istics of boyhood. But whether these suri'ound- 
ings were sufficient in themselves to account for 
his remarkable development or not, the fact re- 
mains that in his growth the period of childhood 
was practically omitted. All testimony agrees 
that with his first intelligence he manifested an 
intensity of political feeling such as ordinarily 

7 



X46 DEMOGBACr AND MONARCHY IN FRANCE. 

comes only witli maturity. It was of an impor- 
tance which can liardly be over-estimated, tliat his 
intensity of character was so early developed, and 
that his first notions of government were associ- 
ated with relentless power, rather than with the 
principles of justice. 

This exceptional character of the parentage and 
infancy of Bonaparte made the first ten years of 
his life a kind of anachronism. The circumstances 
and training which influenced his early years were 
characteristic of the twelfth century rather than 
of the eighteenth. It is not altogether strange, 
therefore, that, as his temperament began to unfold 
itself, it displayed the peculiar characteristics of 
an imperious leader who had been born and reared 
in the Middle Ages. Had his lot been cast among 
the mediaeval chieftains of Spain, he would have 
found congenial spirits among the Laras and the 
Castroes ; had he lived in Italy, he would probably 
have secured an unenviable immortality by the 
side of Azzolino da Romano in the Inferno of 
Dante.'"* 

* Could anything describe more exquisitely one of tlie most striking 
traits of Napoleon's character than the following anecdote of Azzolino ? 
' ' Being one day with the Emperor on horseback, with all their people, 
they laid a wager as to which of them had the most beautiful sword. 
The Emperor drew from its sheath his own, which was wonderfully 
garnished with gold and precious stones. Then said Messer Azzolino : 
' It is very beautiful, but mine, without any great ornament, is far 
more beautiful ; ' and he drew it forth. Then six hundred knights, 
who were with him, all drew theirs. When the Emperor beheld this 
cloud of swords, he said, 'Yours is the most beautiful.'" — Cento 
Novelle Antiche^ No. 83, as quoted by Longfellow in Note on Inferno^ xii. 
110. 



THE RISE OF NAPOLEONISM. 147 

His father liad died early, leaving a large fam- 
ily in absolute poverty, and, therefore, both at 
Brienne and afterward at Paris, where tlie young 
student went in 1785, lie was obliged to remain 
completely isolated from society. He soon gained 
a reputation for being a good scholar in the math- 
ematics, and for being thoroughly unsocial. He 
was morose, and had no companions. A fair pro- 
portion of his working time was spent in the rou- 
tine of his studies, while Ms recreation consisted 
in making himself familiar with the few authors 
who were to exert an influence on his subsequent 
life and character. 

If one were to select from the whole range of 
historical literature two books fitted to satisfy the 
intellectual hunger of so restless, craving, and am- 
bitious a student of war as Napoleon, what would 
they be, if not Plutarch and the Commentaries of 
Caesar ? Over these books the young dreamer of 
military glory sjDent his days and his nights, until 
they became woven into the very tissues of his 
character. Before he left Brienne his ideals were 
fixed, and those ideals were the military heroes of 
antiquity. Thus, up to the time when he became 
an ofiicer in the French army, the influences which 
unite to make up character had been in his case 
sometliing entirely foreign to his age and country. 
Without figure of speech, they might be called 
barl)aric. When Napoleon first began to belong 
to history, he not only seemed to be, as indeed he 
pretended to be, but he really was, a barbarian. 



148 BEMOGBAGY AND MONARGHT IN FRANCE. 

And in cultivated society does not genuine bar- 
barism always carry witli it a kind of fascination ? 
Culture and morality liave so man}^ hesitations, so 
many misgivings, so many second thoughts, that 
they often lose the main chance and appear v^eak, 
v^hile the simple and intense passions of barbarism 
strike suddenly and achieve brilliantly. Hence it 
is that the man of highest culture is often not the 
man for the direst emergency ; hence it is some- 
times that, in the most desperate situation, he who 
feels simply and wills strongly carries off the 
palm. And it is to such a victor that vulgar soci- 
ety is wont to shout its loudest paeans of praise. 
France was in just the condition to take up such 
a character most mllingly and most heartily. If 
there was any one want that was felt more than 
any other, it was the want of a man with strong 
feeling, a powerful will, and a commanding intel- 
ligence. Napoleon was j ust such a man of feeling 
and will, with the addition of a great intellect. 

There is one other feature of Napoleon's charac- 
ter which should not be overlooked, for without 
doubt it was one of the most important elements 
of his peculiar success. I refer to his freedom 
f j'om all restraints of morality and good faith. It 
w^ould doubtless be unreasonable to expect a man 
trained as Napoleon had been to play the part of 
a Washington, or perhaps even to understand his 
true mission. Professor Seeley has somewhere 
remarked that military government and civil gov- 
ernment are so very different things, that a man 



THE BISE OF NAFOLEONIBM. 149 

wlio has a decided genius for either of them is not 
likely to excel at the same time in the other. 
The remark is just, and therefore it might have 
been predicted with great certainty from the first 
that Napoleon would turn out to be something of 
a tyrant ; but it was not too much to hope that 
he would be a tyrant having some fixed belief, de- 
voted to some cause more noble than that of self. 
He was sure to be narrow-minded and hard, but 
narrow-mindedness and hardness are not incompat- 
ible with fidelity and even generosity. And yet, 
when we look for these and other moral qualities 
in Napoleon, they elude our search. His charac- 
ter w^as fundamentally different from that of com- 
mon men. We judge of men ordinarily by a 
moral code, simply because they give evidence of 
some understanding of virtue and duty. But to 
apply such a code to the life of Napoleon is sim- 
ply absurd ; as absurd as to apply it to the deeds 
of chiidi'en who have not yet any discrimination 
of right and wrong, or of truth and falsehood. If 
there had been any ground for doubt on this sub- 
ject, it has been removed by the recent ^publication 
of his works. His despatches and correspondence 
display the fact that he did not hesitate to resort 
to the most elaborate falsehood whenever false- 
hood would best serve his purpose. His ingenuity 
in misrepresentation amounted to real genius. 
We soon cease to be astonished at the frequency 
of his lies, only to be amazed at their audacity 
and tlieir cuiTcncy. In his military campaigns he 



150 DEMOGBACT AND MONABCHY m FRANCE. 

inaugurated a system of pillage unknown in the 
history of the world since the famous taking of 
Corinth by the Romans. He robbed the nations 
not only of their power, but of their works of 
genius ; despoiling them at once of their wealth 
and of their history and their glory. In the name 
of expediency he did not hesitate to put to the 
sword, in cold blood, a disarmed garrison to whom 
he had just promised protection in case of surren- 
der ; and in the same campaign he sought to rid 
himself by poison of his own wounded soldiers 
whom it was convenient to leave behind."^* When 
there was anything to be gained, he could talk 
most j)athetically of the sacrifice he was willing to 
make for the sake of saving a single life ; but 
when the necessity was removed, he had no com- 
punction in ordering a battle and having men 
killed, merely to a:ffiord a spectacle for his mis- 
tress, f 

* The response of Surgeon Desgenettes to the proposition of Bona- 
parte is historical : ' ' Sire, my art teaches me to cure men, not to kill 
them." On the whole subject the reasoning of Lanfrey (vol. I, p. 293 
seq.) is conclusive. 

f These are severe words, but here are two facts on which they are 
!' founded. On the 31st of March, 1797, he wrote from Klagenfurth, to 
the Archduke Charles, a celebrated letter, in which he invited that 
Prince to earn the title of benefactor of humanity. His army, at the 
.moment, was in danger of annihilation, from the fact that he had 
pressed on towards the Austrian capital, in expectation of reinforce- 
ment from the Army of the Rhine. When he found that the Directory 
had kept the reinforcements back, and that he was in presence of the 
most imminent peril, he wrote the letter in which occurs this passage : 
' ' If the overtures of peace which I have the honor to make could save 
the life of a single man, T should feel prouder of the civic crown which 
would be my reward than of all the mournful glory of military sue- 



to 



TEE RISE OF NAPOLEOmSM. \^\ 

I referred to Napoleon as being free from all 
restraints of morality and good faith, and I think 
the facts fully warrant the phrase. And yet how 
many there are who profess for Napoleon a pro- 
found admiration ! Where is there a spirited boy 
who has not wished that the Emperor had con-' 
quered at Waterloo, and who has not felfc the 
blood tingle in his veins with indignation, that 
such a paragon of power should be sent to lan- 
guish at St. Helena ? But the fact is not difficult 
to explain. There is a quality in human nature 
that refuses to be shocked even at the worst 
crimes, when those crimes attend upon great suc- 
cess. There is something captivating even in 
lying, when lying becomes a fine art. Crimes 
which in the vulgar are rewarded with ignominy, 
awaken a kind of admiration when they are so 
colossal as to become sublime. 

When Napoleon first began to figure in history, 
his character was fully established. It must be 
said, moreover, that to the end he was one of the 
most consistent of men. In proof of this there 
still exists an essay written in early life, in which 
his ideas of statesmanship are developed. It reads 

cess," These are doubtless noble words, but here is another fact which 
occurred in the same year, and which will serve as an interpretation. 
Las Casas, in his Memorial^ gives it in the words of Napoleon himself : 
" Walking with her (that is, his mistress) one day, in the midst of our 
position near the Col do Tenda, the idea suddenly occurred to mo 
that I would let her sec something of a battle, and I ordered an attack 
to be made by the advance posts. We won, it is true, but the combat 
coiikl^ of course, result in nothing. The attack loas a pure fancy, buty 
for all that, some few men iccre lift on the ground.^^ 



152 JDEMOGBAGT AND MOWABCHT IJST FRANCE. 

as thougli it were the ardent conclusions of a boy 
who had just read Machiavelli's Prince, and adopted 
his political theories. His philosophy was already 
the philosophy of success. He professes to have 
been in active sympathy with the Girondists until 
their fall, when his sympathy was transferred to 
their victorious enemies. He argues that it was 
an act of good citizenship to join the party of the 
Mountain, because the Mountain had proved itself 
the strongest; and if he does not convince his 
reader of the truth of his proposition, he at least 
shows with what force the idea had taken posses- 
sion of his own mind.'^' 

We see, then, the character of Bonaparte when 
he began to be a power among the turbulent ele- 
ments of France. Calculating self-interest had 
completely overwhelmed every other motive. He 
was free from every scruple and proof against 
every impetuosity. On the best of terms with the 
party in power, he was ready to be reconciled with 
the conquered in case of any sudden reverse of the 



* This essay, the Souper de Beaucaire^ contained sentiments, how- 
ever, which, at the time he was attempting to rise, were exceedingly 
troublesome to Bonaparte. When he was arrested, just after the Ninth 
Thermidor, he gave orders to have all the copies destroyed, and also 
to have the speeches, which he had made at the Club, ascribed to his 
brother Lucien, though Lucien at the time was too young to have 
spoken them. Ou the Twentieth Thermidor, less than ten days later, 
as if to give a certificate of political orthodoxy, he wrote: "I was 
somewhat affected at the fate of the younger Kobespierre, whom I liked 
and whom I believed pure, but I would have poniarded my own father 
with my own hand, if he had aspired after despotism." — Lanfrey^ vol. 
I. p. 39. 



THE RISE OP NAPOLEONISM. ^53 

wheel of fortune. With the chaotic elements of a 
revolutionary government before him, and waiting 
for a master to mould- them, this predestined favor- 
ite of fortune entered upon his work with no guide 
but his own. genius, and no rule of action but his 
own ideal of greatness. 

The Constitution of the year III., all things 
considered, was the best that the Revolution pro- 
duced. The Convention which framed it had be- 
come weary of the frenzy and delirium of the mul- 
titude. It was a reaction toward a healthful pub- 
lic sentiment, but it was a violent reaction. It 
closed the Jacobin clubs, it disarmed the fau- 
bourgs, it repealed the work of the terrorists, it 
was, in short, a vigorous effort to return to ways 
of order and good government. 

But that effort, from its very violence, contained 
in itself immense possibilities of harm. It was 
able to accomplish its ends only by subduing and 
muzzling the populace, and by this very act it cut 
off its own principal support. Thus the Conven- 
tion, though it left some of the most liberal laws 
that France has ever possessed, lost its hold upon 
the multitude. Furthermore, the distrust of the 
Convention on the part of the populace, and of the 
populace on the part of the Convention, was com- 
pletely reciprocal. All power was for the time 
being in the hands of the Convention, and conse- 
quently the Constitution which it bequeathed to 
the nation was framed so as to give to the executive 
branch of the government the largest possible in- 



154 DEMOCRACY AND MONARCHY IN FRANCE. 

dependence of tlie legislature. This was the great 
defect of the Constitution, and it was a fatal one. 
There was sure to spring up as a result of this 
action a violent antagonism between the two 
branches of the govei'nment, and there was no pro- 
vision for a mediatorial power by means of which 
it was possible to prevent either an open rupture or 
a complete submission. Then, too, as if for the 
purpose of hastening the very evils which they had 
thus provided for, the Convention decreed that two- 
thirds of its own number should hold seats in the 
legislature about to assemble, while one-third only 
should be newly elected by the people."^* This was 
justly regarded as an insult to the nation. The 
hostility to the Decrees that had been enacted was 
most intense. When they were submitted to the 
popular vote, however, the j)eople of the country 
districts, with that blind custom which no tyranny 
provokes them to break through, not only ratified 
the action of the Convention, but ratified it by a 
large majority. In explanation of this action, 
Lanfrey has remarked that, in a choice between 
known and unknown evils, the masses of the peo- 
ple will invariably embrace the former as the safer 
of the two. But whether or not this explanation 
alone is sufiicient, Paris did not acquiesce. Her 
tribunes resounded with most vehement declama- 



* The "Decrees," so often referred to in the history of this period, 
were : first, the declaration that two-thirds of the Convention should sit 
in the new legislature ; and secondly, that these two -thirds should be 
chosen by the electoral colleges. 



THE RISE OF NAPOLEONISIL 155 

tions. At length the people of the capital, finding 
that their appeals to the nation were in vain, de- 
termined to resort to arms. 

It was easy for the insurgents to get control of 
the national guard, which numbered forty thou- 
sand men. The army of the Convention numbered 
only eight thousand. As it became certain that 
an attack would be made, it was manifestly of the 
highest importance that the troops of the Conven- 
tion should be ably commanded. After a long dis- 
cussion, Barras was chosen commander-in-chief. 
He had seen the flash of Bonaparte's genius at 
Toulon, and I'equested that the young artilleryman 
might be made his second in command. Napoleon 
in his memoirs declares that he hesitated long 
whether to accept the command ; not, indeed, as he 
clearly intimates, because he had any thought as to 
which side was in the right, but because he was in 
some doubt which party could be made to suc- 
ceed. 

But he accepted the sword of the Convention. 
He spent the night in 23osting his eight thousand 
troops for the defence of the Tuileries. On the 
next day, when the National Guard appeared, they 
found every avenue of approach bristling with 
cannon. After some hesitation they advanced to 
tlie attack, but the artillery of the Convention 
ploughed their ranks through and through. In an 
hour after Bonaparte had mounted the saddle the 
battle was over and the National Guard disj)ersed. 
Barras made haste to send in his resii>:nation, and 



156 DEMOCRACY AND MONARGHT IN FRANCE. 

Bonaparte was appointed General of the Interior. 
Such was the 13th A'^endemiaire. 

Now in this struggle the victorious Convention 
would seem to have been technically in the right, 
and yet it may be doubted whether the day was 
not a fatal one for the nation. The country had 
confirmed by its vote, not only the Constitution, 
but the Decrees. And yet the opposition which 
had just shown itself willing to resort to arms was 
made up of a class which it was by no means safe 
to alienate. Indeed, it was the very party with 
which the Convention had just acted, in opposition 
to the extreme democrats. It included the most 
enlightened populace of Paris. It embraced the 
National Guard, nearly the whole of the electoral 
body of the city, the brilliant middle class, in short 
the whole of that third estate which had done so 
much for the nation, and which during the past 
years had been trodden under foot by the populace 
of the faubourgs. Suspicion had been thrown on 
this party by the Decrees at the very moment 
when they were striving to blot out the remem- 
brance of so many humiliations. They were en- 
deavoring to recover an influence which was justly 
theirs, when all at once they were overwhelmed by 
a measure of distrust, and deprived of the fruits 
of what they regarded as their rightful conquest. 

The Convention sustained in one respect much 
the same relation to the country at large as at a 
later period did the government of Napoleon III. 
In a vote taken by the people exercising universal 



THE EI8E OF NAPOLEONISM. \^>j 

franchise, it could boast of a majority; and yet it 
Lad arrayed against it the great mass of the intel- 
ligence of the nation, for the reason that it had 
deprived intelligent men of their legitimate hope 
of influencing the government. The victory of 
the 13th Vendemiaire had confirmed this alienation. 
It was easy to foresee that henceforth a spirit of 
hostility to the Convention would pervade all the 
ranks of intelligence in the nation. Driven from 
the legislative body by the Decrees and their con- 
firmation, the spirit of hostility betook itself to 
the executive as its stronghold. At the first elec- 
tion the deputies added to the members of the Con- 
vention in order to form the legislature were chosen 
from the hostile party. The Convention replied 
by calling into the Directory five regicides of a 
radical type. As neither the legislative nor the 
executive body had any control over the other, and 
as they were now in open antagonism, it followed 
that there was no way of settling the difiiculties 
but by a resort to force. It might have all been 
avoided if the Convention had simply remembered 
and acted on one of the most obvious principles of 
political science. It was enunciated by Aristotle 
and more fully elaborated by Cicero, that a gov- 
ernment, to be efficient and worthy of confidence, 
must conserve at once the wealth and intelligence 
of the land, and no subsequent experience has 
shown that their assertions were ill founded or of 
liinitcKl aj)])lication. It may be stattul as a general 
truth, that a nation is in the greatest ])eril when 



158 DEMOCRACY AND MONAUCHY IN FRANCE. 

those ill power cease to regard these interests, and 
rely solely upon the most ignorant class for sup- 
port; and this was just the condition of France 
w^hen Napoleon took command of the army. 

Meantime the 13th Vendemiaire had revealed 
to the different parties the weight of the sword. 
On the one hand it had taught authority how, at 
all hazards, it must rely on the army ; on the other, 
it had shown the army how it could dispose of 
authority. It thus opened wide the doors to a 
new military government. 

It is of great importance in this connection to 
notice that the foreign policy of France during the 
Revolution, had, up to the time of which we are 
speahing, been pui'ely a defensive one. Since the 
outbreak in 1789 the country had entrenched 
itself firmly in the doctrine that every nation 
should be allowed to control its own internal 
affairs, and that no foreign power should be per- 
mitted, under any circumstances, the privilege of 
interference. But immediately after the appoint- 
ment of Bonaparte all was changed. The doc- 
trine which had hitherto been such an element of 
moral power in the conduct of its foreign relations 
was cast aside, or, rather, it was reversed. An ag- 
gressive policy was adopted, and Italy was destined 
to feel the first blow. 

Nothing is now plainer than that the invasion 
of Italy by Napoleon, in 1796, was in most positive 
antagonism with the habit as well as the spirit of 
the Revolution. It was in no sense a war for 



THE RISE OF NAP0LE0NI8M. 159 

principles or for rig.lit, but a war for aggrandize- 
ment. It was tlie beginning of a policy of offen- 
sive warfare, of wliicli it was impossible to foresee 
the end. Moreover, Italy was regarded, not as an 
oppressed nation to be delivered, but as a rich 
country to be seized.'"^* 

The relations of Bonaparte with the Directory 
during this war afford us admirable material for 
the study of his character. It is the opinion of 
Lanfrey that the Directory had already begun to 
fear the power of the General, while at the same 
time they knew that he was necessary to the sup- 
port of themselves. Above all things, therefore, 
it was essential that he should not be alienated. 
As Bonaparte knew well how indispensable his 
services were to the Directory, and as it became 
more and more apparent that they too regard.ed 
these services as indispensable, his imperious will 
was held under no restraint whatever. We see, 
in consequence, the spectacle of a general who, 
though acting nominally under the orders of the 
Directory, followed their instructions only so far 
as these instructions would best subserve his pur- 

* The proclamation of Napoleon on taking the field shows how com- 
pletely the campaign was a war of conquest and not a war of liberty : 
*• Soldiers, you are hungry and nearly naked. The government owes 
you much ; it can do nothing for you. Your courage and patience do 
you honor, but cannot procure you either profit or glory, I come to 
lead you into the most fertile plains of the world. There you will find 
rich provisions and great towns. There you will find glory, honor, and 
riches. Soldiers of Italy, can your courage fail you ? " Is this less 
barbarous than the speech which Livy puts into the mouth of Hanni- 
bal? 



IQQ DE3fOGBAGT AND MONARCHY IN FRANCE. 

pose. In so important a matter even as tlie fram- 
ing of treaties, lie scarcely hesitated to act in most 
flagrant violation of liis orders. And yet during 
all this high-handed work of erasing state boun- 
daries, of overthrowing time-honored governments, 
and of setting up pseudo-republics, the Directoiy 
had no word of rebuke to utter. When he car- 
ried out their directions, they applauded ; when he 
violated them, they ratified. 

The process by which Napoleon acquired his 
strange mastery of the army it is not difficult to 
understand. He lost no opportunity of availing 
himself of the riches of which he had spoken in 
his first proclamation. His profound knowledge 
of human nature led him to take nothing for him- 
self, while he gave unbounded opportunities to his 
subordinates. He knew well that it was of far 
more consequence to him that, on his return to 
Paris, he should be able to boast that he remained 
poor while others became rich, than that he should 
become possessor of millions. The scandalous for- 
tunes which most of his generals acquired only 
gave him the more absolute empire over them, 
while they in no way weakened his popularity at 
home. His favorite method was to give them a 
mission in which large sums of money passed 
through their hands without any supervision ; and 
then, if they took no advantage of these, he 
laughed at their scruples. When he wanted rein- 
forcements from the army of the Alps, he wrote to 
Kellermann, the general in command : " Help us 



THE RISE OF NAPOLEONISM. 1^1 

as promptly as possible, if you wish lis to send 
you any more seven hundred thousand francs." 
Once he was ofered a present of four million 
francs by the Duke of Modena. He replied, 
coldly, " No, I thank you ; for such a sum I am 
not going to put myself into your power." He 
preferred to confiscate the whole, as he afterwards 
did; not for himself, but for those from whose 
hands he awaited still greater j^ower. 

If the Directory raised a complaining voice, he 
knew of an eifectual solace. On one such occasion 
he sent a hundred of the finest horses in Lombardy 
to the Directory as a present, ^' to replace," as he 
wrote, " the middling horses now harnessed to 
your carriages." The government, too, was in the 
direst need of money; and Bonaparte kept a 
steady stream of it flowing toward Paris. Every 
city which the army approached was laid under 
heavy contribution. Milan, for example, perhaps 
in despair of making a successful resistance, ven- 
tured to put to the test the commander's magnan- 
imity by spontaneously making the first advances 
toward submission. What was its reward ? It 
had the privilege of being governed by the French 
for the price of twenty millions of francs. In 
Bonaparte's letter to the Directory on the affair 
are to be found these words : " The country is one 
of the ricliest in the world, but entirely exhausted 
by ^\Y(i years of war." Tlie Directory accepted 
the twenty millions complacently, and bestowed 
upon the giver their smile of approbation. 



162 DSMOCBAGY AND MONARCHY IN FRANCE. 

At about tlie same time, Turguet, appealing to 
Bonaparte for contributions to the navy, said: 
" Let us make Italy proud of contributing to the 
splendor of our marine." It was much as if, when 
Germany, at the close of the recent war, was in 
the act of determining the amount of the French 
indemnity. Von Roon had written to Bismarck, 
" Let us make France proud of contributing to the 
splendor of our navy." It was impudence fairly 
sublime. 

But that which better than all else reveals 
Bonaparte's method was his dealing with the Re- 
public of Venice. By what Lanfrey calls the 
most brilliant of all his campaigns, he had obtained 
possession of the western portion of J^^orthern Italy. 
It was not strange that he coveted the Queen of 
the Adriatic. Let us glance at the method by 
which he accomplished his purpose. 

In the early part of the struggle which had been 
going on, Venice had succeeded in maintaining the 
strictest neutrality. But at length a difficulty 
arose which afforded a pretext for war. A French 
captain ventured to push his vessel up into the 
., vicinity of the Venetian powder-magazine, in viola- 
tion of a general law which had always been re- 
spected by foreign powers. The Venetian com- 
mander remonstrated, but received so insulting a 
reply, that he fired upon the French man-of-war. 
The affair could have been easily settled, but under 
existing circumstances it was as sure to produce 
an explosion as though Captain Laugier had 



THE RISE OF NAPOLEONISM, I53 

dropped a shell into tlie middle of the Venetian 
powder-house. It afforded just the pretext that 
Bonaparte wanted ; and therefore he would listen 
to no overtures for a settlement. No terms they 
could offer would satisfy him. At length he dis- 
missed the envoys who had sought a settlement 
with these words : 

^'I have eighty thousand men and some gun- 
boats. I will have in Venice no inquisition and no 
senate. I will prove an Attila to Venice. I will 
have no alliance with you. I want none of your 
proposals. I mean to dictate the law to you. It 
is of no use to deceive me to gain time. The 
nobles of your provinces who have hitherto been 
your slaves are to have a share in the government 
like the others, but your government is already 
antiquated and must tumble to pieces." 

The violence of this barbarous language is easily 
accounted for. The protocols known as the " Pre- 
liminaries of Leoben" had already been signed, by 
which Bonaparte (in direct violation of the orders 
of his government), had entered into contract to 
give up to Austria all the Venetian provinces be- 
tween the Oglio, the Po, and the Adriatic, together 
with Istria and Dalmatia, while, in consideration 
thereof, Belgium and Lombardy were to be given 
up to France. The General vv^as certain of secur- 
ing a ratification of this infamous contract only by 
previously involving Venice in war, and conse- 
quently no opportunity was to be lost. So pre- 
cious an occasion as that just afforded coidd not 



164 BEMOGBAGT AISTD MONABGHY IN FBANGE. 

but be eagerly seized upon. Two days after the 
harangue just given, Bonaparte published his mani- 
festo, declaring war.'"^^ 

Of course Venice could do nothing before the 
French armies. Indeed, the conquest was accom- 
plished too soon ; for the " Preliminaries of Leoben" 
were not yet known, and France was consequently 
not yet ready to turn Venice over to the Emperor. 
A treaty was therefore signed at Milan, the most 
important article of which w^as that the French oc- 
cupation should continue until the new government 
was established and should declare that it had no 
further need of assistance. 

In explaining this treaty to the Directory, Bona- 
parte laid bare his motives in terms which it seems 
to me impossible to stigmatize with too great sever- 
ity. He wrote as follows : 

" I had several motives for concluding the treaty. 
1. To enter the town without difficulties ; to have 
the arsenal and all else in our possession in order 
to take from it whatever w^e need under pretence of 
the secret articles. 2. To give us the advantage of 
all the strength of the Venetian territory in case 
the treaty with the Emperor should not be executed. 



* In giving an account of this whole affair to the Directory, Bona- 
parte himself revealed the true character of the event. Writing on the 
7th of June, he used these words : ' ' I have purposely devised this sort of 
rupture^ in case you may icisJi to oMaiiifide or six millions from Venice. 
If you have more decided intentions^ 1 think it would he loell to keep up 
the quarrel. The truth cibout the affair at Peschieixi is that Beaulieu 
basely deceived them; he asked for a passage of fifty men^ and 
then took possession of the town.'''' — Lanfrey, vol. I p. 100. 



THE BI8E OF NAPOLEONIBM. 1^5 

3. To avoid drawing upon ourselves tlie odium that 
may attacli to the execution of the preliminaries, 
and at the same time to furnish pretexts for them 
and to facilitate their execution." 

For the complete execution of these purposes, 
Bonaparte at once despatched General Gentili to 
take possession of the Venetian fleet and the Ven- 
etian provinces in the Levant. In his instructions 
to the commanding officer he used these character- 
istic v^^ords ; ''If the inhabitants of the country 
should be inclined to independence, you should flat- 
ter their tastes and should not fail in your procla- 
mations to allude to Greece, Spain, and Athens." ''^' 
The commission was executed with Napoleonic des- 
patch. At Corfu, Gentili took possession of the 
Venetian navy, together with five hundred guns 
and an immense magazine. 

We now approach the climax of duplicity and 
hypocrisy. It is imjoortant to notice the dates of 
the letters and despatches. That sent to the Di- 
rectory was written on the 19th of May, 1797. 
On the 26th of the same month he wrote to the 
municipality, entreating them to have full confi- 
dence in his movements. He concluded his letter 
with an apjoeal which could not fail to touch noble 
sentiments in those who were proud of their thou- 
sand years of mediaeval glory. " Under any cir- 
cumstances," wrote he, "I sliall do all in my power 
to give you proofs of the great desire I have to 

* Lanfrey, vol. T. p. 199. 



IQQ BEMOCBAGT AND MONABGHT IN FRANCE. 

guarantee your liberty, and to see this unhappy 
Italy free from all foreign intervention, and trium- 
phantly placed in that rank among the great nations 
of the world to which by her nature, position, and 
destiny she is so justly entitled." ^ 

These words were received in good faith and 
with acclamations of joy. It was on the strength 
of them that a reception of extraordinary magnifi- 
cence was given to Josephine, whom Bonaparte had 
sent as a pledge of friendship. But what followed ? 
These words, as we have stated, were written to 
the Venetian municipality on the 26th of May. It 
was only a few hours later, at one o'clock in the 
morning of May 27th, that the General wrote to 
the Directory : " To-day we have had our first 
interview on the subject of the treaty of peace, and 
we have agreed to present the following proposi- 
tions : 1. The boundary of the Rhine for France. 
2. Salzburg and Passau for the Emperor. 3. Cleves 
or its equivalent for Prussia. 4. The maintenance 
of the Germanic Confederation. 5. The reciprocal 
guaranties of these articles, and Venice foe the 
Emperor." 

Finally, on the same day, that is, on the very 
day after he had sent the mellifluous message to 
Venice, as if for the purpose of crowning the in- 
famy of the aifair, he wrote to his government: 
" Venice, which has been gradually decaying ever 
since the discovery of Good Hope and the rise of 

♦ Lanfrey, vol. I. p. 200. 



THE RISE OF NAP0LE0NI8M. 1^7 

Trieste and Ancona, can scarcely survive the blows 
we have just struck. With a cowardly and help- 
less population, in no way fit for liberty, without 
territory and without rivers, it is but natural that 
she should go to those to whom we give the conti- 
nent. We shall seize the vessels, despoil the ar- 
senal, and carry off the guns ; we shall destroy 
the bank and keep Corfu and Ancona for our- 
selves." 

That these accusations against the Venetians were 
made merely for the purpose of justifying his mon- 
strous conduct, is shown by the fact, that only a 
short time before the occurrence of these events, in 
writing to the Directory, the General had referred 
to the Venetians as " the only 23eople among all the 
Italians who were worthy of liberty." 

The last act of this drama was soon played. 
The treaty of Campo-Formio completed the work, 
already so far advanced, by ceding Venice to the 
Emj)eror, in accordance with the conditions which 
Bonaparte had proposed. When the imperial en- 
voy appeared in the Ducal palace to receive the 
oath of allegiance of the Venetians, a death-like 
silence and despair was everywhere manifest. 
The ex-Doge Manini was forced to take the oath 
in the name of his countrymen. As lie arose to 
pronounce the fatal words, lie suddenly tottered 
and fell senseless to the floor, struck down by 
angnish of heart. 

Thus vanished, after a long and glorious career, 
the foremost of the Italian republics. In the name 



IQg BEMOCBACr AND MONARCHY IN FRANCE. 

of liberty aiiotlier crime had been committed. The 
military agent of the French Republic had an- 
nexed to imperial Austria the state whose inhabi- 
tants he himself had but a short time before char- 
acterized as the only people among all the Italians 
who were worthy of liberty. 

While these painful events were taking place in 
Italy, an act of no less importance was performed 
at Paris. The blind acquiescence with which the 
Directory submitted to the decisions of Bonaparte 
was not shared by the legislature. The Council of 
Five Hundred still contained many who had a 
genuine regard for the spirit of liberty ; and these 
could not be entirely blind to the fact that the fall 
of Genoa and Venice, the two most prominent re- 
publics of Italy, presaged no good to the Republic 
of France. There was at least one man in the 
Council who had the courage to protest, and his 
name ought not to be forgotten. On the 23d of 
June, Dumolard ascended the tribune of the Five 
Hundred for the purpose of interrogating the 
Directory in regard to the affairs of Italy. His 
speech was entirely moderate in tone. He had no 
personal dislike of Bonaparte ; on the contrary, he 
had often spoken of him with genuine admiration. 
He neither accused nor blamed the General ; he 
addressed the Directory, and asked above all for 
accurate information. " How is it," he asked, 
'' that France is at war with Venice before the Di- 
rectory has consulted the legislative body, as the 
Constitution requires ? By what authority have 



THE RISE OF NAPOLEONISM. 1^9 

they dispensed with the formality of submitting 
to the Assembly tlie declaration of war?" Then 
coming to the acts that followed Bonaparte's en- 
trance into Venice, he exclaimed : " Are we then 
no longer the same people who proclaimed and sus- 
tained by force of arms the principle, that under 
no pretence whatever ought foreign powers to in. 
terfere with the form of government of another 
state ? I will not ask what fate is reserved for 
Venice; / will not asJc lolietlier the invasion^ 
meditated^ perliaps^ before the commission of tlie of- 
fences which are assigned as motives^ loill not 
figure inhistory as a fit pendant to the jpartition of 
Poland^ Dumolard closed his speech by declar- 
ing in ringing words, that the result of the policy 
adopted would be endless wars, while France Avas 
perishing for want of peace. " Every one^"^ said 
he, " who reflects on the nature of our government 
is indignant when lie thinks of the blind and silent 
confidence required of us in everything connected 
with peace or war. In England, where the Con- 
stitution only gives the two houses an indirect par- 
ticipation in foreign affairs, we see them demand 
and obtain information on all events of importance, 
while we, republicans, to whom has been delegated 
the sovereign right of making war and peace, allow 
our rulers to draw the veil more iind more closely 
over a dark and obscure policy." 

These noble words of warning and of re])roach 
stiri'ed tlie Five Hundred. The motion was cari'ied ; 
but the Directory paid no heed to it whatever. It 



170 DEMOGBAGY AND MONABGRT IN FRANGE. 

was evident that the executive was determined to 
ask no counsel and to receive no advice from the 
legislature. 

When Bonaparte received news of this motion 
and speech of Dumolard, he was thrown into a gen- 
uine rage. What 1 an obscure representative, one 
of those lawyers of whom he w^as always speaking 
with contemj)t, had dared to discuss him, the chief 
of an army of eighty thousand men, the distrib- 
uter of states, the arbiter of princes ! It was too 
much. He wrote immediately to the Directory a 
letter which at once revealed the petty nature of 
his imperious will, and showed plainly what might 
be expected. He covered Dumolard with abusive 
epithets, and then expressed his " surprise that this 
manifesto, got up by an emigrant in the pay of 
England, should have obtained more credit in the 
Council of Five Hundred than his own testimony 
and that of eighty thousand soldiers." Together 
with this letter he sent a stiletto, designed, of course, 
to work with melodramatic effect on the excitable 
Parisians. He concluded by expressing a purpose 
to resign and to live in tranquillity, " if, indeed," 
said he, ■• the poniards of Clichy will allow me to 
live at all." In another letter of the same general 
purpose he apostrophized his enemies thus : " But 
I give you notice, and I speak in the name of eighty 
thousand soldiers, that the time when cowardly 
lawyers and miserable babblers guillotined soldiers 
is past ; and if you compel them, the soldiers of 
Italy will come to the barrier of Clichy with their 



THE BI8E OF NAPOLEONIBM. \^^\ 

general at their head, but woe betide you if they 
do come." 

These words, so much more characteristic of an 
aboriginal chief than of a military officer in civil- 
ized society, seem nevertheless to have had a gen- 
uine meaning ; for a few days later he addressed a 
proclamation to his army as follows : 

^' Soldiers, I know you are deeply stirred by 
the dangers which threaten the country; but the 
country can have no real dangers to face. The 
same men that made France triumph over united 
Europe still live. Mountains separate us from 
France ; you would cross them with the speed of 
an eagle, if it were necessary to uphold the Con- 
stitution, to defend liberty, to protect the govern- 
ment and the republicans. Soldiers, the govern- 
ment watches over the laws as a sacred deposit 
committed to them. The royalists, the moment 
they show themselves, will perish. Banish dis- 
quiet. Let us swear by the shades of the heroes 
who have died by our sides for liberty, — let us 
swear by our new standards, ' War implacable 
against the enemies of the Republic and of the 
Constitution of the year III.' " 

Thus, with the public and with the army, Bona- 
])arte prepared the way for what was to follow. 
His labors in private, moreover, were scarcely less 
energetic or significant. The new election which 
had just occurred liad strengthened his enemies in 
the Five Hundred, so that he became more and 
more convinced that a blow must be struck Ac- 



172 DEMOCJRACT AND MONARGHT IN FRANCE. 

corclingly lie sent two agents to Paris, to feel the 
pulse of tlae public. To Lavalette, one of these, 
lie said : " See every one ; keep clear of party 
spirit; give me the truth, and give it free from 
all passion." 

A mind so upright and enlightened as Lava- 
lette' s had no difficulty in comprehending the sit- 
uation. He seems to have seen the mischief in- 
volved in the plot of the Directory, and he warned 
Bonaparte against it : 

" You will tarnish your reputation if you give 
your support to measures of such unjust violence, 
measures which the position of the government 
in no way justifies. You will not be forgiven for 
uniting with the Directory in an effort to over- 
throw the Constitution and liberty. The proscrip- 
tions proposed are directed against the national 
representation, and against citizens of tried virtue, 
who are to be punished without trial. The odium 
of such tyranny would fall, not only on the Direc- 
tory, but on the whole system of republican gov- 
ernment." 

But what was to be done ? A cotip (Tetat 
seemed necessary to save the Directory, and yet 
there might be a reaction which would ingulf all 
its prominent supporters. Bonaparte did not hesi- 
tate. He told Lavalette to offer to Barras, the 
chief of the Directory, three million francs in 
case the movement should succeed. At the same 
time he sent Augereau to Barras, as the fittest offi- 
cer to execute a cowp de main ; writing to Lava- 



THE BISE OF NAPOLEONISM. 173 

lette meanwhile, ^' Don't trust Angereau : lie is a 
seditious man." Tlius lie encouraged Barras to 
make the attempt, while he furnished him with the 
means by which he was least likely to be perma- 
nently successful. It is in the highest degree prob- 
able that Bonaparte was willing the affair should 
miscarry ; for in case of an attempt and a failure, 
who but himself and his army could decide the 
question in dispute between the two branches of 
government ? 

But there was to be no failure. At one o'clock 
on the morning of September 4th (the 18th 
Fructidor), Augereau v/ith twelve thousand troops 
surrounded the Tuileries, where the legislative 
body held its sessions. No resistance was made, 
and therefore the palace was taken possession of 
without the firing of a single shot. Vigorous pro- 
tests were made, but they were useless. The pro- 
scribed members were placed under arrest; the 
others were convoked in another part of the city 
to ratify the will of the Directors. And this 
remnant of the legislature, it must be said, was 
not slow to confirm with the mockery of a legis- 
lative indorsement all that had been done. They 
voted for the transportation of a great number of 
their colleagues, including some of the most irre- 
]^roacliable citizens of their time. With these 
were also included the editors, writers, proprietors, 
managers, and conductors of forty-two public 
journals. They annulled the elections in the forty- 
eight departments which had dared to name depu- 



1Y4 DEMOGRAGY AND MONARGHT IN FBANGE, 

ties opposed to tlie Directory ; they renewed tlie 
laws against priests and emigrants ; they destroyed 
all liberty of the press by giving to the Directory 
the right to suppress journals at pleasure ; they 
abolished all judicial power in the forty-eight de- 
partments declared to be seditious, and assigned 
the appointment of new judges to the Directory; 
finally they gave to the Directors two new col- 
leagues, and conferred upon the executive power 
thus arranged the right to reform or dissolve all 
political societies at pleasure, as well as the right 
to proclaim a state of siege and to delay to an in- 
definite period the organization of the ISTational 
Guard. It should be added, as a fit close to the 
record of this infamous work, that the men con- 
demned to banishment were thrown into iron 
cages and sent to Eochefort, whence they were 
embarked for the pestilential shores of Cayenne. 
Half of them died speedily, thus paying with 
their lives for the oifence of having opposed the 
schemes of Bonaparte and Barras. This action, 
more than anything else in the whole history of 
the Revolution, reveals the political degeneracy — 
I had almost said the lio])eless political degeneracy 
— of the times. That the street rabble was violent 
was not an occasion for especial wonder. That 
the executive was corrupt and base is explained 
by the simple fact that corrupt and base men were 
chosen as Directors. But that an assembly of five 
hundred men, embodying as it did the political in- 
telligence and political virtue of the nation, could 



THE MISE OF NAP0LE0NI8M. 175 

be guilty of sucli monstrous excesses can only be 
explained on the supposition that the poison had 
penetrated to every part of the body politic. 

The Goiip cVetat oi the 18th Fructidor opened 
the way completely for a military dictatorship. 
Was the nation ready to accept Bonaparte as a 
master, or was further preparation necessary? 
That the General himself inclined to the latter 
opinion we have the declaration of his own words. 
In his Memoires he declares : " In order that I 
might be master of France^ it luas necessary for 
the Directory to experience reverses during my ab- 
sence^ and for my return to restore victory to the 
French jiagT 

This sentence, though written years after the 
event, probably reveals one of the two great mo- 
tives of the General in undertaking the expedition 
into Egypt. But whether such was actually one 
of his motives or not, it is certain that he could 
not have planned in a manner more likely to in- 
volve the Directory in difficulties that were inex- 
tricable. The moment the government ceased to 
receive money from the Italian army, the finances 
fell into the old confusion. In order to raise 
money for the Egyptian campaign, Bonaparte, as 
his correspondence reveals, advised and urged that 
the Directory seize upon Switzerland and Rome. 
On the very eve of tlie departure of his expedi- 
tion, therefore, this act was done, and with a conse- 
quence which it would Iiave been easy to antici- 
pate. The outrage was felt in every corner of 



3 76 DEMOCBAGT AND MONARGHY IIT FJIANGE. 

Europe. "War was instantly declared by the coali- 
tion against France, and tlie nation at once began 
to suiter from a double disadvantage. In the 
first place, Bonaparte had with him all the best 
ofiicers of the army as well as his old veterans ; 
in the second, the French frontier, by the annexa- 
tions, had been so lengthened that it now ex- 
tended from Amsterdam to Naples. In conse- 
quence of these two circumstances, the French 
armies all along the frontier were crushed, and 
Italy together with several of the provinces was 
lost. Surely the reverses which Bonaparte had 
deemed it necessary that the Directory during his 
absence should experience must have been in the 
highest degree satisfactory. 

Moreover, affairs in Paris were in hopeless con- 
fusion. The government was fast sinking into 
contempt; the people saw their armies defeated 
and the provinces slipping away ; they remem- 
bered the glorious days of the Italian campaign, 
and sighed for a sight of the Little Corporal. 

The same favoring fortune, however, did not 
follow Bonaparte in the affairs of the East. Not 
content with an effort to reduce Egypt to the con- 
dition of a French colony, — a project which had 
been more or less familiar to France ever since it 
was proposed by Leibnitz to Louis XIV., — Bona- 
parte was ambitious to revolutionize the whole of 
the Eastern world. He talked of ruining the 
English settlements in India ; of chasing the Turks 
from Constantinople and driving them into Asia 



THE PdSE OF NAPOLEONISM. 177 

by means of a rising of the Greek and Christian 
populations, and then of returning to Europe, " la 
prenant a reversP 

The " moderate preliminary," as he called it, of 
the occupation of Egypt was no very difficult task. 
In Syria, however, the obstacles were insurmount- 
able, and the aggressive force of the expedition 
was completely broken. After a long siege of 
Saint Jean d'Acre, and after as many as fourteen 
assaults upon the city had been made in vain, 
Bonaparte learned that the Turks were about to 
turn the tables upon him by making an attack 
upon Lower Egypt. Nothing but a prompt with- 
drawal of his army could save him from the great- 
est peril. Reluctantly but promptly he gave the 
order to retreat. At Saint Helena he was accus- 
tomed to say that a grain of sand had thwarted 
all his projects. He often repeated the assertion, 
that if Saint Jean d'Acre had fallen, he should 
have changed the face of the world, and been Em- 
peror of the East. 

The disasters of the retreating march were only 
exceeded by the mendacity of the commander in 
reporting them. The bulletins declared every 
movement a success, and transformed every reverse 
into an astounding victory. But concerning the 
true nature of that retreat from Palestine to 
Egypt there can no longer 1)0 any doubt. The 
roads were strewn with the sick and the wounded, 
who wore left under the scorcliing sun to die. At 
one time the troops, exasperated l)y the distress of 

8* 



\ 



178 DEMOCRACY AND MONARCHY IN FRANCE. 

their companions, who reproached them with out- 
stretched arms for their desertion, rose in mutiny. 
Bonaparte ordered all the cavalry to dismount, 
that the horses might be devoted to the convey- 
ance of the sick and the wounded. When his 
equerry came to ask which horse he desired to have 
reserved for his own use, he replied, with a cut of 
his riding- whip, ^' Every one on foot ! did you not 
hear the order ? " 

When Bonaparte, by means of the bundle of 
papers which Sidney Smith caused to find their 
way through the French lines, learned of the con- 
dition of afEairs in Europe, there was but one 
course consistent with his character for him to 
pursue. There was nothing more to be done in 
Egypt ; there was everything to be done in France. 
If he were to lead his army back, even in case he 
should, by some miracle, elude the eager eyes of 
Lord Nelson, the act would be generally regarded 
as a confession of disaster. If he were to remain 
with the army, he could, at best, do nothing but 
pursue a purely defensive policy ; and if the army 
were to be overwhelmed, it was no part of Napo- 
leonism to be involved in the disaster. There was 
but one natural way in which to settle the whole 
matter. It would be far shrewder to throw the 
responsibility of the future of Egypt on another, 
and to transfer himself to the field that was fast 
ripening for the coveted harvest. Of course Bona- 
parte, under such circumstances, did not hesitate 
as to which course to pursue. Robbing the army 



THE RISE OF NAPOLEONISM. ^79 

of sucli good officers as survived, lie left it in com- 
inand of the only one wlio liad dared to raise Ms 
voice in opposition to the work of the 18th 
Fructidor. Taking with him Lannes, Murat, 
Berthier, Marmont, Andreossi, Duroc, Bessieres, 
Lavalette, Monge, Berthollet, Denon, he com- 
mitted the diminished and prostrated army to the 
heroic but indignant Kleber. Was there ever a 
more exquisite revenge ? And we might ask, was 
fortune ever more capricious than when she be- 
stowed her rewards on these two men ? For the 
one she had the poniard of a fanatic, for the other 
the most powerful throne in the world. 

On the arrival of Bonaparte in Paris everything 
seemed ready to his hand. The very events which 
he had probably anticipated and desired, certainly 
those which he afterwards d^eclared to have been 
necessary to his elevation, had taken place. The 
policy which, in the seizure of Switzerland and the 
Papal States, he had taken pains to inaugurate be- 
fore his departure for Egypt had borne its natural 
fruit. As never before in the history of Europe, 
England, Holland, Russia, Austria, Naples, and 
even Turkey had joined liands in a common cause, 
and as a natural consequence the Directory had 
been defeated at every point. Nor was it unnat- 
ural for the j)eople to attribute all these disasters 
to the inefficiency of the government. The Di- 
rectory had really fallen into general contempt, 
and at the new election on the 30th I'^rairial it had 
})een practically overthrown. Pcnvbell, who ])y 



XgQ DEMOGBAGT ANB MONAUCIIY IN FRANCE. 

his influence liad stood at tlie liead of afeirs, had 
been obliged to give way ; and what was quite as 
important, his place had been filled by one who 
w^as known not only to be hostile to the old gov- 
ernment, but also to have in his pocket a new 
constitution which, if adopted, would establish 
quite another order of things. By the side of this 
fantastic statesman, Sieyes, Barras had been re- 
tained, probably for no other reason than that he 
was sure to be found with the majority, while the 
other members, Gohier, Moulins, and Roger-Ducos 
were men from whose supposed mediocrity no 
very decided opposition could be anticipated. 
Thus the popular party was not only revenged for 
the outrages of Fructidor, but it had also made 
up the new Directory of men who seemed likely 
to be nothing but clay in the hands of Bona- 
parte. 

The full importance of this action in a political 
point of view can be only estimated when it is re- 
membered that the fatal weakness of the Constitu- 
tion of the year III. was of a nature to make a 
repetition of such a cou]) dJetat as that of the 18th 
Fructidor peipetually possible. That weakness I 
have already pointed out to have been a want of 
all proper means of reconciling the differences 
that might arise between the legislature and the 
executive branches of the government. .Differ- 
ences had at once arisen, and as there was no pro- 
vision for a mediation, an outbreak was likely to 
follow. The executive had been the first to begin 



TEE RISE OF NAPOLEONISM. Igl 

the contest, and the events of Fructidor had se- 
cured for the executive the first victory. But 
now the reverse had taken place. The Directory- 
had committed egregious blunders, and the people 
had in consequence demanded a change of policy. 
There was, however, no other way of inaugurating 
a change, except by violently overthrowing the 
Directory. In other words, the Constitution pro- 
vided no means by which the legislature could 
lawfully enforce the will of the people ; there was, 
therefore, nothing for the legislature to do but 
either to submit tamely, or to resort to the very 
means secretly adopted by the Directory. In 
choosing the latter course, the legislature fairly 
accepted the challenge which had previously been 
given. The gauntlet thrown down by the Direc- 
tory on the 18th Fructidor was taken up by the 
Councils on the 30th Prairial, and henceforth it 
was to be a war vi et armis^ in which neither 
party had a right to ask favor. 

The changes which had been enforced by the 
Councils in the com230sition of the Directory gave 
a temporary advantage to the legislature ; tliis ad- 
vantage was, however, but a trifling victory, to be 
followed, as we shall see, by an overwhelming de- 
feat. As was to be anticipated, the victory of the 
Councils was followed by a somewhat emphatic 
ex])ression of popular erithusiasm. The people for 
a considerable time had had no voice either di- 
rectly or indirectly in the policy of the nation ; 
but nov\^, it was hoped, a real cliange had taken 



132 DEMOCRACY AND MONARCHY IN FRANCE. 

j)lace. Tlie masses, therefore, responded heartily 
to the calls of the new government. The armies 
were filled, and Bernadotte, now Minister of War, 
found no difficulty in arousing the slumbering en- 
thusiasm of the nation. ''Young men," said he, 
" there will surely be found some great captains 
among you " ; and once more a French army was 
seen to be made up of heroes. Holland and Bel- 
gium were regained ; in a fortnight Masse na com- 
pletely routed and scattered the Austrians and 
Russians in Switzerland ; Brune defeated the Duke 
of York and forced him to capitulate ; Champion- 
net established a formidable barrier along the 
southern frontier. 

It was while the nation was rejoicing over these 
victories that the first bulletin was received an- 
nouncing the success of the French at Aboukir. 
In the midst of a profound silence the President 
read to the Assembly of Five Hundred a despatch 
which painted in brief but glowing terms the ex- 
tent of the victory. There were reasons why the 
bulletin was received with unusual enthusiasm. 
Nothing had been known of the situation of the 
army in Egypt, and the mystery which hung over 
the expedition had ci'eated an inexpressible anxiety. 
All this was at once relieved. Then, too, in the 
Iieat of political partisanship, it had come to be 
generally believed by the populace that Bonaparte 
and the army had been deported to Egypt by the 
Directojy for no other reason than jealousy of 
their glory. The petitions which poured into the 



THE RISE OF NAPOLEONISM. ^83 

Council of Five Hundred abounded in expressions 
deploring tlie '' exile of BonaparteP Absurd as 
all this impression was, it had a vast effect upon 
the nation at large. To Bonaparte's absence they 
had attributed all their disasters, and in their belief 
nothing but his return would reinstate their an- 
cient military glory. 

With such sentiments as these rife in the nation, 
it is not difficult to understand the reason of the 
enthusiasm with which the bulletins from Egypt 
were received. The despatches were contrived 
with all that clever artifice of theatrical device of 
which Bonaparte was so consummate a master. 
The campaign in Syria, the battle of Mt. Tabor, 
the pretended destruction of Acre, — these and like 
inglorious exploits— some of them pure fabrications 
— were the pabulum on which the popular enthu- 
siasm fed and increased. 

It was while Berthier, the most graceful of ISTa- 
poleon's secretaries, was attempting to throw over 
that deplorable campaign the halo of his fine words, 
that the Moniteur published an item of intelli- 
gence before which all else appeared insignificant. 
It was announced that Bonaparte had actually re- 
turned to France, that he was at that veiy moment 
on his way to Paris, and that he was everywhere 
saluted by an unbounded enthusiasm. 

Tlie manner in which the General was received 
can havci left no possible doubt remaining in his mind 
as to the strengtli of liis Jiold on the hearts of tlie 
people. It nuist have been a])parent to all that he 



184 I^EMOGBAGT AND MONARCHY IN FRANCE. 

needed but to declare himself, in order to secure a 
well-nigh unanimous support and following of the 
masses. But with the political leaders the case, 
for obvious reasons, was far different. From the 
moment when the news of his landing at Frejus 
reached Paris, there were symptoms of uneasiness 
in the ranks of the old politicians ; for it is evident 
that they already saw in the popular favorite a 
dangerous enemy. The different political parties 
were so evenly balanced, that the leaders of each 
were not without hopes of gaining an ultimate as- 
cendency. To all such hopes the presence of Bona- 
parte was sure to be fatal. His popularity was 
so overwhelming, that in his enmity the leaders 
could anticipate nothing but annihilation, in his 
friendship nothing but insignificance. 

These considerations, however, could have no 
weight with any except with those whose position 
and influence warranted them in hoping to be 
raised to the very head of affairs. To the politi- 
cians of the second and third rank the new ascen- 
dency brought better prospects. Bonaparte, there- 
fore, had no difficulty in surrounding himself with 
men of more than respectable talent and influence, 
who were eao^er to secure his hio-hest favor. His 
long absence had kept him from all party strife ; 
therefore, he was able to secure for himself the 
earnest co-operation of men who to one another 
were mutually irreconcilable. The Kue de la Vic- 
toire extended hospitality to guests of every politi- 
cal shade. Talleyrand, whose diplomatic ability 



THE BI8E OF NAPOLEONISM. 185 

had already attracted attention ; Eeal, the able 
commissioner of the Department of the Seine ; Ca- 
banis, the old friend and coadjutor of Mirabeau ; 
Volney, the illustrious and notorious savant; 
Bruix, the shrewd ex-Minister of the Navy ; Cam- 
baceres, the Minister of Justice; Dubois de 
Crance, the Minister of War, — these and others of 
similar political incompatibility were greeted at 
Eonaparte's residence with a most friendly welcome. 
For once the friends of Sieyes sat quietly by the 
side of those of Bernadotte, and the men of the 
Manege chatted peacefully with the adherents of 
Barras. Most important of all is it to note that 
three of the five Directors — Gohier, Roger-Ducos, 
and Moulins — were among the most frequent visi- 
tors, and among the foremost in their assurances of 
devotion. 

The method in which Bonaparte set about form- 
ing a working party out of this heterogeneous 
material forms a good illustration of his character. 
The member of the government who at the time, 
wielded most influence, was Sieyes, a man for 
whom personally the General had so unconquera- 
ble an aversion, that Josephine was accustomed to 
refer to him as her husband's hSte noire. It was ev- 
ident that Sieyes was the most formidable obstacle 
to the General's advance. Eitlier the hcte noire 
would have to be destroyed, or else he woidd 
have to be j)acified, or, if these were both impossi- 
ble, somci other pathway of advancement would 
have to be found. The fact that Bonaparte re- 



186 DEMOGBAGY AND MONARGHT IN FRANGE. 

sorted to each of these metliods in quick succession 
shows at once how completely devoid of principle 
he was, and how readily he could subordinate all 
personal antipathies to the interests of his ambi- 
tion. 

He first proposed to get himself made a member 
of the Directory in the place of Sieyes by finding 
some pretext or other for disputing the legality of 
his opponent's election. This course he broached 
to Gohier and Moulins, but they scouted the idea, 
declaring that, in the first place, no decent j)retext 
for overthrov/ing Sieyes could be found, and, in the 
second, that Bonaparte was not yet fifty years old, 
the age required by the Constitution for all mem- 
bers of the Directory. This proposition, though 
it was urged with significant persistence, singularly 
enough awakened no very considerable alarm. 
That some suspicion was aroused, however, may 
be inferred from the fact that an eifort was made 
to get rid of his presence by offering him once 
more a military command. But Sieyes and Bar- 
ras were openly of the opinion that he had already 
made a sufficient fortune out of his military ap- 
, pointments, and accordingly they expressed a de- 
cided preference that he should remain at home. 
These objections afforded a convenient excuse, and 
Bonaparte refused the appointment. 

The attempt to oust Sieyes having failed, a 
strenuous effort was made to get control of the 
party in favor of a republican dictatorship. At 
the head of this body stood, as a kind of military 



<'r5' 



THE RISE OF NAPOLEOmSM. 187 

triumvirate, Bernadotte, Augereau, and Jourdan. 
Tills party, without doubt, represented better 
tLan any other the ideas of Bonaparte ; for it had 
gathered together the scattered remains of Jacob- 
inism, and had a strong hold on the lower orders 
of the people. But Bernadotte remained inflexi- 
ble, though he was appealed to by all the ties of 
friendship and even relationship. It is impossible 
to believe that he had any objection to a military 
dictatorship ; we are left, therefore, to the infer- 
ence that he recognized the overwhelming powers 
of his brother-in-law, and consequently feared that 
in case of an alliance his own influence would be 
overshadowed or overwhelmed. 

As a third move, Bonaparte attempted reconcili- 
ation with B arras. There were, apparently at 
least, some reasons why they should be friends. 
Their careers had begun together at Toulon ; and 
it was to Barras that Bonaparte owed his com- 
mand on the 13th Vendemiaire. It was known 
that Fouclie was somewhat uneasy from the fact 
that his patron had fallen into disrepute with the 
man whose star was evidently rising, and lie there- 
fore was employed to effect a reconciliation be- 
tween the two former friends. He succeeded in 
getting Barras to take the first step by inviting 
Bonaparte to dine with him at the Luxembourg. 
But there was no lieartiness in the meeting. Each 
treated the othei* with caution and reserve. Barras 
at length touched ujion political matters in a 
vague and indirect manner, as if to force his rival 



138 DEMOCRACY AND MONARCHY IN FRANCE. 

to commit himself first. " The Republic," said he, 
"is falling to pieces; it cannot long continue in 
this state. We must make a great change and 
name Hedouville President. You will join the 
army. For my part, I am ill, unpopular, and 
worn out. I am only fit for private life." 

Though this little speech was probably intended 
simply to draw out Bonaparte, it had the opposite 
eifect. It was evident to the General that there 
was nothing to hope for from a man who talked 
of making Hedouville President ; and therefore, 
instead of replying to his interlocutor, he simply 
fixed his eyes upon him and remained silent. Bar- 
ras was utterly disconcerted ; a few moments later 
his guest withdrew. 

Thus Bonaparte had attempted to place himself 
at the head of affairs, first by an effort to remove 
Sieyes, and then by trying to get control in turn 
of the two parties which were strong enough to 
aiford him efiicient support. In all these attempts 
he had been unsuccessful, and there was now noth- 
ing for him to do but either to abandon the effort, 
or to seek an alliance with his worst enemy, Sieyes. 
After having failed to remove this hSte noire from 
his path, and after having been equally unsuccess- 
ful in attempting to pass around him, first on the 
right and then on the left, perhaps there was noth- 
ing more natural than that he should attempt to 
tame or pacify him, and then, if possible, to use 
him. 

This work of reconciliation, however, was beset 



THE RISE OF NAP0LE0NI8M. IgQ 

with even greater difficulties than would at first 
appear. It w^as universally known, that, only a 
few days before the time of which we are speak- 
ing, Sieyes had talked of having Bonaparte shot 
for deserting his military command, and that Bon- 
aparte had reciprocated this amiable good- will by 
proposing to have Sieyes removed from the dicta- 
torship because he was sold to Prussia. Talley- 
rand, however, with a shrewdness for which he 
afterwards became more famous, saw the great 
advantage which an alliance of the kind proposed 
would afEord to Bonaj)arte; and accordingly, not- 
withstanding the difficulties in the way, did not 
hesitate to set himself assiduously at work to 
bring it about. The difficulty, of course, was to 
overcome the antipathy of Sieyes — a difficulty 
which appeared absolutely insurmountable, inas- 
much as the Director foresaw clearly the obscurity 
with which such a reconciliation threatened him. 
That Sieyes fully understood the danger, we have 
the amplest evidence. Joseph Bonaparte in his 
Mdmoires declares that when he and Cabanis were 
striving with the Director to arrange for a meet- 
ing, the latter declared emphatically, " I know the 
fate that awaits me in case of a union. x\fter he 
has succeeded he will separate himself from his 
colleagues, and stand in front of them as I stand 
in front of you now." And suiting his movement 
to the word, he stepped forward, pushing his in- 
terlocutors behind him. 

With Bonaparte, on the other hand, every inter- 



190 ^EMOGRAGT AND MONABGHT IJsf FBANGE. 

est called for a speedy consummation of the 
alliance. He had already learned that a conspiracy 
embracing a considerable number of powerful ad- 
herents had been formed, and he rightly conject- 
ured that nothing was wanting to the organization 
but a man of prompt action like himself. This 
consideration, perhaps sufficiently powerful in itself, 
was fortified by the recollection of his repeated 
failures with other parties, and also by the evident 
fact that the moment the coup cPetat had taken 
place, the lion's share would fall to the most popu- 
lar man. Thus the advocates of Bonaparte had 
every motive for putting forth their most strenuous 
efforts. 

That Sieyes finally consented to a meeting, when 
he clearly foresaw the usurpation that was to fol- 
low, removes every claim that he might otherwise 
have had upon our respect and sympathy. Unac- 
countable as it may seem, he finally threw off his 
reserve so completely, that when Bonaparte at last 
called upon him to make proposals, he accepted 
the first overtures of the General, and that in con- 
sequence, on that very night, it was agreed be- 
tweeij them that in eight or ten days the decisive 
blow should be struck. It can hardly be denied 
that by this very action Sieyes drew upon himself 
the contempt and the oblivion into which he soon 
after fell. 

Such were the preliminary negotiations which 
led to that dark day in French history known as 
the 18th Brumaire. It remained only to get ab- 



THE RISE OF NAFOLEONISM. 191 

solute control of tlie military forces, a task at 
that time in no way difficult. The officers who 
had returned with Bonaparte from Egypt were 
impatient to follow wherever their master might 
lead. Moreau, who, since the death of Hoche, 
was regarded as standing next to Bonaparte in 
military ability, was not reluctant to cast in his 
lot with the others, and Macdonald as well as Se- 
rurier soon followed his example. Bernadotte 
alone would yield to neither flattery nor intimida- 
tion. 

The last to give in his adhesion was Lefebvre. 
This officer was then regarded by Bonaparte as 
one of his relentless opponents, and therefore he 
was not let into the secret until the last moment. 
On the morning of tiae 18th, when a crowd of mil- 
itary men of every grade thronged the dwelling 
of Bonaparte, Lefebvre appeared among the others. 
He had been summoned at midnight merely to 
meet his fellow-officers for a review at six o'clock 
in the morning. Meeting a colonel, he asked for 
an explanation, and was referred to Bonaparte. 
The latter on being approached exclaimed, " Well, 
you are one of the supporters of the Republic, and 
^vill you leave it to perish at the hands of these 
lawyers % Here is the sword I wore at the 
Pyramids. I give it to you as a pledge of my 
esteem and confidence." Was any of Napoleon's 
officers likely to resist such an appeal ? " Let 
us throw the lawyers into the river," responded 
Lefebvre. 



X92 DEMOCRACY AND MONARCHY IN FRANCE. 

It needs only to be added that Bernadotte, 
Jourdan, and Augereau were tlie only officers of 
note whose absence from the revieiv attracted at- 
tention. Bernadotte v/as known to be actively 
opposed to the movement ; the others had not been 
admitted to the secret, and had not been invited 
to be jjresent. On the following day, Augereau, 
meeting Bonaparte, showed, his uneasiness by re- 
marking, "So then you have no use iov ton petil 
Augereau ? '^ The chief deigned no other reply 
than that of informing him that in future the 
quieter he kept the better oft he would be. 

While Bonaparte was thus marshalling his 
forces in the Bue de la Victoire, the way was 
opening in the Councils. A commission of the 
Ancients, made up of leading conspirators, had 
worked all night drawing up the proposed arti- 
cles, in order that in the morning the Council 
might have nothing to do but to vote them. The 
meeting was called for seven o'clock, and care was 
taken not to notify those members whose opposi- 
tion there was reason to fear. The moment theie 
was an opportunity. Cornet, one of the most active 
conspirators, mounted the tribune and denounced 
in most plaintive terms the dangers which threat- 
ened the government. He declared that the con- 
spirators were " w^aiting only for a signal to draw 
their poniards on the representatives of the 
nation." "You have but a moment," exclaimed 
he, " in which to save France. If you let it pass, 
the Republic will be lost, and its carcass will be 



THE BISE OF NAPOLEONISM, 193 

the prey of vultures, wlio will quarrel over its torn 
members." 

Now, in all this no names of conspirators were 
given, no persons were even hinted at. The object 
of Cornet and his associates was simply to convince 
the igno]*ant of the existence of a conspiracy, and 
then, after binding the Council as to the source of 
the danger, to call into supreme power the chief 
conspirator in order to put the conspiracy down. 
What was this but casting out devils by Beelzebub, 
the prince of devils ? 

When Cornet sat down, Regnier, another of the 
conspirators, arose and proposed to the Assembly, 
for the saving of the government, the adoption of 
the decrees which had been already prepared. As 
the opposition, and, indeed, the independent mem- 
bers of the Council, were generally absent, the arti- 
cles were adopted without discussion. Those pres- 
ent voted, first, to remove the sessions of the Coun- 
cils from Paris to Saint Cloud (a privilege which 
the constitution conferred upon the Ancients alone), 
thus putting them at once beyond the power of in- 
fluencing the populace and of standing in the way 
of Bonaparte. They then passed a decree giving 
to Bonaparte the command of the military forces, 
at the same time inviting him to come to the As- 
sembly for the purpose of taking the oath of alle- 
giance to the Constitution. 

These decrees were at once taken to the expect- 
ant Dictator. They reached him at about ten 
o'clock in the morning. They were at once read 
I) 



194: DEMOCRACY AND MONARGHT IN FRANCE. 

by Mm to tlie tlirong of officers and soldiers who, 
as we have just seen, had been for some hours in 
waiting. After he had concluded the reading of 
the decrees, he asked the crowd if he could count 
on their support in this hour of danger ; to which 
they responded with a general flourish of swords. 
The General then mounted his horse and rode off 
at the head of the troop. 

When Bonaparte ai-rived at the Hall of the 
Council, he acted the part of swearing allegiance 
to the Constitution in a manner that had been 
hardly anticipated. 

" Citizen representatives," said he, " the Repub- 
lic was in danger ; you were informed of it, and 
your decree has saved it. Woe to those who seek 
to bring trouble and disorder into it. General 
Lefebvre, General Berthier, and all my comrades 
in arms will aid me to stop them. Do not look to 
the past for a clue to guide your onward march ; 
nothing in history ever resembled the eighteenth 
century; nothing in the eighteenth century ever 
resembled the present moment. We want a Re- 
public founded on true liberty and national rep- 
resentation. We will have it, I swear ; I swear it 
in my own name and that of my companions in 
arms." 

Thus, instead of an oath of allegiance to the 
Constitution, the Council had merely received an 
oath that the nation should have a Republic 
founded on true liberty and national representa- 
tion. The words have a captivating jingle, but 



THE RIBE OF NAPOLEONISM. 195 

in the mouth of Bonaparte what was the mean- 
ing of the phrases " true liberty " and " national 
representation " ? A mere bait, of course, with 
which to catch the popular support. 

But this fraud did not jDass undetected. As 
soon as Bonaparte had closed, Garat arose to point 
out the fact that the citizen-general had forgotten 
the nature of the oath required, which was to 
swear to support the Constitution. Poor innocent 
Garat, he little knew the resources of Bonaparte's 
friends. The President instantly interfered, declar- 
ing that after the action of the morning no discus- 
sion could take place, except at Saint Cloud. 
Thus the mockery of the oath-taking in the Coun- 
cil of Ancients was accomplished. 

The General had now a more difficult part to 
j)ei'form in the Council of Five Hundred. 

As the meeting of the Assembly was not to oc- 
cur until twelve o'clock of the following day, 
Bonaparte made use of the intervening time in 
posting his forces and in disposing of the Direc- 
tory. Lannes he placed in command of the Tuil- 
eries; Marmont, in that of the Ecole Militaire; 
Serurier, at Point du Jour; Macdonald, at Ver- 
sailles; and Murat, at Saint Cloud. At all of 
these points it was likely that nothing more than 
a 23urely defensive policy would be demanded. 
But there was one locality in the city where it was 
probable aggressive force would be required. The 
Luxembourg was the seat of the Directory, and 
the Directory must at all hazards be crushed. In 



196 DBMOGRAGT AND MONARGHT IN FRANCE, 

case the individual Directors should refuse to yield, 
it would be absolutely necessary, in order to insure 
the success of the enterprise in hand, to take pos- 
session of the palace by force. But this would in- 
volve the arrest of the executive, — an ignominious 
work which any officer would shrink from per- 
forming, since it would recpiire a j)ositive and un- 
mistakable array of the military against the civil 
authorities. But Bonaparte knew well how to 
turn all such ignominious service to account. In 
close imitation of that policy which had left Kleber 
in Egypt, he placed the Luxembourg in charge of 
the only man in the nation who could now be re- 
garded as his rival for popular favor. Moreau 
fell into the snare, and by so doing lost a popular- 
it}^ which he was never afterward able to regain. 
Having thus placed his military forces, Bona- 
j)arte turned his attention to the Directors. The 
resignations of Sieyes and of Roger-Ducos he al- 
i-eady had upon his table. It remained only to 
procure the others. Barras, without warning, was 
confronted by Talleyrand and Bruix, who asked him 
without circumlocution to resign his office, at the 
same time presenting him with the paper of resig- 
nation already drawn up at the instigation of Bon- 
aparte, and demanding his signature. Barras 
rubbed his eyes, and, finding that the agents of the 
General vv^ere determined, wrote his name, thus 
crowning the work of a life equally remarkable 
for its treachery and its cowardice. The baseness 
of the act is made all the more conspicuous by the 



THE RISE OF JSfAPOLEOmSM. 197 

fact that, only a half -hour before, Barras had prom- 
ised to meet at once his colleagues Gohier and 
Moulins at the Luxembourg, for the purpose of 
uniting in a fitting protest, and, if need be, in an 
energetic resistance. 

Three of the Directors thus disposed of, it was 
left to make away with the remaining two. Bona- 
parte met them in person and tried various de- 
vices of flattery and of intimidation, but in vain. 
When he finished his interview by peremptorily de- 
manding of both their resignation, they flatly re- 
fused ; but when they returned to the Luxembourg 
it was onty to be made prisoners by Moreau. It 
might be said that in the course which they pur- 
sued Gohier and Moulins simply did their duty ; 
but in view of the acts by which Bonaparte ever 
after his return from Egypt had been endeavoring 
to win them over to his purposes, their firm conduct 
on that fatal day in a measure justifies the French 
in claiming that the Republic did not fall with- 
out honor. For their conduct on that occasion 
they are entitled to a permanent tribute of respect. 
It is only to be regretted that their firmness and 
their integrity were not equalled by their foresight 
and their wisdom. 

The night of the 18tli passed in comparative 
tranquillity. The fact that there was no organized 
I'esistance is accounted for by Lanfrey with a sin- 
gle mournful statement, that •' nothing of the kind 
could be expected of a nation that had been de- 
capitated. All the men of rank in France for the 



198 DBMOCBAOY AND MONARCHY IN FRANCE, 

previous ten years, either by character or genius or 
virtue, had been mown clown, first by the scaffolds 
and proscriptions, next by war." These are indeed 
melancholy words to utter of any nation, but who 
that has studied the French Revolution is ready to 
declare that they are not essentially true ? The ' 
only escape had seemed to be through mediocrity 
or silence. Sieyes, when once urging his claims to 
notice, was asked what he had done. His reply 
was a flash of w^it which lights up the whole period, 
'''' I have livecV 

But notwithstanding the force of the reason 
urged by Lanf rey, it seems to me that the national 
apathy on this occasion had another and a far more 
deplorable cause, — a cause which even at the pres- 
ent time entails more woes upon France than al- 
most all others combined. I refer to that condi- 
tion of political demoralization which comes from 
repeated acts of revolutionary violence. It re- 
quires but a glance at the successive coups deforce 
which had taken place within the previous ten 
years to enable one to perceive ample grounds for 
that demoralization. On the 14tli of July, 1789, 
absolute royalty succumbed and gave place to a 
constitutional monarchy. On the 10th of August, 

1792, this was overthrown, and in its place was 
established the Republic. On the 30th of May, 

1793, the lawful Republic was displaced by the 
revolutionary government. On the 9th of Ther- 
midor, 1794, this was in turn overthrown by the 
legal authority, which held its j)lace until the 18th 



THE BISE OF NAP0LE0NI8M. 199 

Fmctidor, in 1797, when the first military coup 
(Tetat substituted the revolutionary in the place of 
the legal Directory. And now at last this in turn 
was compelled to give way to the establishment of 
a military government on the 18th Brumaire. 

What was all this but the experience painted 
so well by Lucretius ? \ 

. . . , Et semper victus tristisqne recedit ; 

Nam petere imperiiim, quod inane est, nee datnr unquam, 

Atque in eo semper durum sufferre laborem, 

Hoc est adverso nixantem trudere monte 

Saxum, quod tamen a summo jam vertice rursum 

Volvitur, et plani raptim petit gequora campi. 

Within ten years there had been eight different 
cou])s deforce J the violent establishment of eight 
different governments, not a single one of which 
had been the spontaneous expression of the national 
will. These repeated acts of violence had resulted 
in creating a popular insensibility, as well as a 
confusion of law and force which is fatal to all 
healthful political feeling and action, and which, 
it is to be feared, is still the "worst malady that 
France has to overcome. "^ 



* On this question of the fatal continuance of a revolutionary spirit 
in France, the following- remarks by M. Paul Janet are so excellent 
that I cannot but quote them : 

" On ne pent done contester a la France un droit que Ton reconnait 
aux autres nations ; cependant, pour qu'une insurrection soit legitime, il 
faut qu'ellc ne soit qu'une date do deliverance, non le signal de la rc- 
volte a perpetuitc, — il faut qu'ello ait pour consequence la paix et I'ordre, 
et ne soit pas le dcchainement illimito du droit de la force. Le jour oil 
la France aura dcfinitivement conquis dos destinces paisibles et accep- 
tera sans reserve le r^gne de la loi, elle pourra revenir sans danger aux 
souvenirs de son affranchisscment, ello fOtora avec joic le jour de sa do- 



200 DEMOCRACY AND MONARCHY IN FRANCE. 

But notwithstanding this demoralization of the 
people, it is not to be asserted that no effort was 
made to resist the work of usurpation. The fee- 
bleness of the movement attempted, however, 
clearly demonstrates that apathy of the people to 
which we have referred. A few deputies met in 
the night at Salicetti's for the purpose of organiz- 
ing the opposition. As the best preliminary 
measure, they decided that in the morning they 
would repair to Saint Cloud and would pass a de- 
cree to give the command of the guard of the Five 
Hundred to Bernadotte. But no sooner had the 
meeting dissolved, than Salicetti himself betrayed 
the news to Bonaparte and received his reward. 
Measures were at once taken by the General to 
prevent the deputies from reaching their destina- 
tion ; and thus the effort miscarried. 

On the followhig day, before the Council of 
Ancients was fairly organized, the General was 
announced. During that morning everything had 
gone contrary to his expectation, and he bore an 
anxious and irritated look. It was evident that 
the sudden eclat of his first movement had given 
way to a general anxiety and a desire to put to 
the test of examination the pretences in regard to 

liverance ; mais tant que le droit de la force n^aurapas ahdique^ — etpeut- 
on dire quHl ait adbiqub ? — tant quHl y aura lieu de craindre que les par- 
tis ne tieiiaent ea reserve cette arme fatale^ elle 'oerra toujours avee in- 
qid'tude cette iruocation persistante d'un droit p'mlleux quipeut aussi 
Men tuer que d'literer^ et qui retourne si sowcent contre ceux qui Vem- 
ploienty — IjEaprit Rixolutionnaire et la Souverainete Nationale^ . 
des Deux Maudes, Tome Cerdieme^ p. 721. 



THE BI8E OF JSfAPOLEONISM. 201 

a Jacobin plot. Bonaparte evidently felt himself 
oppressed by the change of atmosphere, and ac- 
cordingly he determined to bring the whole matter 
to a speedy issue. He drew up a regiment in 
order of battle in the court, and, referring to the 
Council, announced to his officers "that he was 
going to make an end of it." Then, followed by 
his aides-de-carn]^^ he pressed into the presence of 
the Assembly. 

The address by which he attempted to justify 
his action is remarkable only for its violence and 
its incoherence. He affirmed the existence of a 
Jacobin plot to destroy the government ; but 
when pressed for an explanation, he could only 
declare that Barras and Moulins had proposed to 
him to be the leader of a party to overthrow all 
men having liberal opinions. When he was ad- 
juring the Council to save liberty and equality, 
one of the members added interrogatively, " And 
the Constitution ? " " The Constitution," ex- 
claimed Bonaparte, "you violated it on the 22d 
Floreal, and you violated it on the 30th Prairial. 
The Constitution ! The Constitution is invoked 
by all factions, and has been violated by all ; it is 
despised by all ; the country cannot be saved by 
the Constitution, because no one any longer re- 
spects it." 

This harangue, however eloquent it may have 
seemed and however truthful the assertions it con- 
tained, in the mouth of Bonaparte was simply out- 
rageous ; for no one had done so much to violate 

9* 



202 DEMOCRACY AND MONARCHY IN FRANCE. 

the Constitution of the year III. as Bonaparte him- 
self. But this was not all. When he was pressed 
for fui'ther explanation of the plot of which he was 
constantly speaking, he tried to extricate himself 
by changing his former accusations into a violent 
attack on the Council of Five Hundred. After 
accusing the members of wishing to re-establish 
the scafEolds and revolutionary committees, and of 
having despatched emissaries to Paris to organize 
a rising, he completed the consternation of his 
friends by resorting to open threats : 

" If any orator in foreign pay talks of outlawiy, 
let him beware of levelling such a decree against 
himself. At the first sign I should appeal to you 
my brave companions in arms ; to you, grenadiers, 
whose caps I perceive yonder ; to you, brave sol- 
diers, whose bayonets are in sight. Bemember 
that I go forward accompanied by the God of for- 
tune and the God of war ! " 

Thus having shifted his attack, first to one 
quarter and then to another, he ended by making 
it understood that he was not there to give even 
plausible reasons, but simply to enforce the com- 
mands of his imperious will. 

Having reduced into a submissive mood the 
Council of Ancients, Bonaparte repaired at once 
to the Council of Five Hundred. Here his friends 
were less numerous and less influential. The dis- 
cussion took the same turn, but was carried on 
with considerably more warmth and urgency. In 
their impatience to fathom the plot which had 



THE RISE OF NAPOLEONISIf. 203 

caused their removal to Saint Cloud, tliey liad de- 
cided on sending an address to the Council of An- 
cients, asking for information. The letter of res- 
ignation which had been forced upon Barras had 
just been i^eceived, and the Assembly was consid- 
ei'ing the question whether it was best for them 
then and there to name his successor, when the 
door was opened, and Bonaparte, surrounded by 
his grenadiers, entered the hall. A burst of in- 
dignation at once arose. Every member sprang 
to his feet. " What is this? " they cried, " swords 
here ! armed men ! Away ! we will have no dic- 
tator here." Then some of the deputies, bolder 
than the others, surrounded Bonaparte and over- 
whelmed him with invectives. " You are violat- 
ing the sanctity of the laws ; what are you doing, 
rash man ? " exclaimed Bigonnet. '^ Is it for this 
that you have conquered ? " demanded Destrem, 
advancing towards him. Others seized him by 
the collar of his coat, and, shaking him violently, 
reproached him with treason. 

This reception, though the General had come 
with the purj)ose of intimidating the Assembly, 
fairly overwhelmed him. Eye-witnesses declare 
that he turned pale, and fell fainting into the 
arms of his soldiers, who drew him out of the 
hall.-^- 



* It has been often asserted that at this time daggers were drawn 
upon the General; but Laiifrey has shown that the story is contra- 
dicted by all trustworthy evidence. It would have been easy for his 
enemies to have assassinated him in a sculiie from which he escaped 



204 BEMOGllAGY AND MONARCHY IN FRANCE. 

The confusion that ensued in tlie Assembly was 
indescribable. One member moved that Bona- 
parte be deprived of his command. Another pro- 
posed that the six thousand soldiers then surround- 
ing the hall be declared a part of the gaard of the 
legislative body. Finally that terrible cry of 
hors la loi was raised, the cry which had over- 
whelmed Robespierre himself. It would have 
passed almost without opposition, but for the ac- 
tion of Lucien, who, as President of the Assem- 
bly, steadfastly refused to put the question to 
vote. He reminded the Assembly of his brother's 
services, and entreated them not to pass a hasty 
judgment; after which he surprised the members 
by resigning his office of President. This action, 
at first thought, would seem to have been a 
blunder ; but its effect, as was probably designed, 
only increased the confusion, for no action could 
now be taken until a President was chosen, and 
the Council was in no condition wha;tever to pro- 
ceed with an elect ioa. 

But though this action tied the hands of the 
Assembly at the moment when it seemed upon the 
point of outlawing Bonaparte, it at the same time 
imposed upon the conspirators themselves an addi- 
tional necessity of immediate action. The General 



with his clothes torn. Moreover, the detailed account, which on the 
next day was published in the Monit6iii\ though written by one of the 
partisans of Bonaparte, says nothing- of an attempt at assassination. 
The story was doubtless invented by Lucien the second day after the 
act, for the purpose of justifying his brother's action. 



TEE RISE OF NAPOLEONISM. 205 

saw the importance of bringing the affair to an 
end before the Council should have time to re- 
cover, and he resorted, therefore, at once to the 
means for which he had made such ample prepa- 
ration. He ordered the soldiers to clear the hall. 

When the troops, however, began to advance 
upon the Council, for the purpose of breaking it 
up by armed force, there was a degree of hesita- 
tion that gave a momentary apprehension of fail- 
ure. The cause of the delay was the fact that the 
soldiers to whom the command had been given 
formed a part of the guard of the Legislative 
Body. It seemed for a moment probable that 
they would remain steadfast in defence of their 
charge ; but Lucien, who was still generally sup- 
posed to be President of the Assembly, showed 
himself master of the emergency. Since his resig- 
nation he had fallen into the hands of his brother, 
and he now raised his voice in a harangue to the 
troops in regard to their duty. He assured them 
that the Council had been crushed by brigands in 
the j)ay of England, and that the question was 
now how it should be rescued from so great a dan- 
ger. Then drawing his sword in a theatrical man- 
ner, he turned to the General and exclaimed : 
" For my own part, I swear to run this through 
my own brother if ever he shall strike a blow at 
the liberties of the French." 

It was probably this oratorical flourish that 
saved the conspiracy from being overwhelmed. 
The majority of the guard, still supposing that 



206 JDEMOGBAGT AND MONARCHY IN FUANCE. 

they were listening to tlie President of tlie Assem- 
bly, regarded the speech as sufficiently assuring, 
and instantly responded by shouting, " Vive 
Bonaj)arte I " 

In the midst of the excitement Murat placed 
himself at their head and commanded the drums 
to beat. When they reached the doors of the 
Council, the members made an earnest appeal for 
the legislative inviolability, but to no purpose. 
When they refused to retire, the drums were again 
beat, and the grenadiers poured into the hall. A 
last cry of Vive la RejrMique was raised, and a 
moment later the hall was empty. Thus the 
crime of the conspirators was consummated, and 
the First French Eepublic was at an end. 

After this action it remained only to put into 
the hands of Bonaparte the semblance of regular 
authority. The tragedy which had just ended 
with the death of a republic was immediately fol- 
lowed by a farce. A phantom of the Council of 
Five Hundred — Cornet, one of them, says thirty 
members — met in the evening and voted the meas- 
ures which had been previously agreed upon by 
the conspirators. Bonaparte, Sieyes, and Eoger- 
Ducos were appointed provisional consuls ; fifty- 
seven members of the Council who had been most 
prominent in their ojaposition were excluded from 
their seats ; a list of proscriptions was prepared ; 
two commissioners chosen from the assemblies 
were appointed to assist the consuls in their work 
of organization ; and, finally, as if to remove the 



THE BI8E OF NAPOLEONISM, 207 

last possibility of interference with tlie usurpers, 
they adjourned the legislative body until the 20th 
of February. 

It needs, perhaps, hardly to be said, in addition, 
that by means of this victory N^apoleonism had 
removed the most formidable obstacle to that 
complete triumph which it soon came to enjoy. 
At the close of the first meeting of the consuls, 
Sieyes said to the chief supporters of the coup 
cVetat : '' Gentlemen^ you have a ^naster. Bona- 
2Jarte means to do everytJdng^ hnows liow to do 
everything^ and has the jpower to do everything.''^ 
Time revealed that in this extravagant homage 
there was far too much of truth. From this 
moment there were, it is true, certain forms to go 
through with, but for the most part they were 
forms only. In due time Sieyes drew from his 
pocket that fantastic roll which he had so long 
carried, known as his Constitution ; but, to use 
the happy expression of Madame de Stael, it was 
only to destroy very artistically the few remaining 
chances of liberty. The complicated provisions of 
the Constitution of the year VIII. furnished both 
water and grist for Bonaparte's mill. 

It requires but few words to describe the 
method by which the General's purpose was ac- 
complished. Sieyes had imagined that all legisla- 
tive action should be conducted in the form of a 
judicial trial, and accordingly he had organized 
his legislature into a species of court of equity. 
The Council of State, as a kind of plaintiff, was 



208 DEMOGBAGY AND MONABGHY IN FBANGE. 

entrusted with the work of proposing and sup- 
porting new laws, while the mission of the Tribu- 
nate was to oppose the arguments of the Council 
of State. The legislative body, " silent as a 
tribunal of judges," was to decide, and finally the 
decision was to go to the Senate as a grand court 
of appeal When Bonaparte came into j)ower as 
First Consul, France presented the spectacle of a 
legislative body divided into four parts, each part 
having a separate function to perform. The first 
proposed laws, without discussing them ; the sec- 
ond discussed, without passing upon them; the 
third passed upon them, without either proposing 
or discussing; and the fourth had simply the 
power of veto. Of these four parts, Bonaparte 
su|)pressed the second and retained the remaining 
three, thus, at a blow, getting rid ostensibly of 
what he called " the infinite hahhling of the laiv- 
yers / " in reality, of what was the only means in 
the nation of considering the questions proposed, 
or of raising even the faintest opposition. Hence- 
forth the legislature was worse than the play of 
Hamlet with Hamlet left out; it was Hamlet 
abolished, and the rest of the players struck 
dumb."^' 



* The suppression of tlie Tribunate by Kapoleon lias been rigorously 
defended by his friends and apologists. The words of Lanfrey on this 
subject are so spirited and, as I think, so just, that I quote them. He 
says: " This very inoffensive disposition in a body elected and paid 
by the government, and deprived of all efficacious means of making 
its opinion prevail, was tempered by a prudence of which it would, per- 
haps, be impossible to find another example in the history of deliber- 



THE BI8E OF NAPOLEONISM. 209 

Thus it came about that during all those fiery 
years of the Consulate and the Empire, France 
had no legislature that possessed even the sem- 
blance of independence. There were at times cer- 
tain formalities that to the eye had a legislative 
appearance, but they were mere shadows, which 
only helped to conceal the real substance of the 
government. There were also, it is true, certain 
changes in the constitution of the legislature, but 
tiiese were only varying expressions of the same 
nullity. 

Nor had Bonaparte any greater difficulty in 
brushing his colleagues out of his way. When 
Sieyes, upon whose face Bourrienne once said was 
always vmtten, " Give me money," sa^v that the 
First Consul was absorbing all power, legislative 
as well as executive, he ventured mildly to raise 
his voice in protest. Bonaparte, however, was 
not to be baffled. He threw at the feet of the 



ative nssemblies. It is only by the most audacious of mystifications 
that the story of a factious tribunate has been imposed on the ignorant. 
Never was there a more scrupulous or more moderate opposition than 
that of this minority of twenty or twenty-five members, who persisted 
after the 18th Brumaire in not despairing of French liberty. If a re- 
proach can be cast upon them, it is that, on more than one occasion, 
consideration for their opponents amounted to pusillanimity. In the 
voluminous official reports of the sittings of the Tribunate we find no 
instance in which violent language was used, except the hasty expres- 
sion which escaped Duveyrier on the third sitting, and which he very 
soon afterwards retracted. We look in vain for a single hostile mani- 
festation ; wo find, on the contrary, plenty of advances and concessions, 
which were to remain useless. To refuse anything to him who wants 
everything is as certain to offend as to yield nothing." — Lanfrey^s 
History of Napoleon^ vol. I, p, 424. 



210 DEMOGEAGT AND MONARCHY IN FRANCE. 

objector the estates of Crosnes, worth a million, 
and tlius easily consigned liis last rival to an 
absolute silence. Sieyes became a senator, and 
said nothing. 

It was in the session of the 7th of February, 
1800, that E^oederer presented to the Legislative 
Assembly a grand plan for the organization of the 
Consular establishment. Bonaparte, as we have 
seen, had already made himself master of the Leg- 
islature and had brought completely under his in- 
fluence all the men whom he had reason to suspect 
or to fear. But the nation at large had not yet 
fallen a prey to his grasping ambition. Paris he 
held in his hand, but France was not yet subject 
to his control. It was for the purpose of complet- 
ing the work so successfully begun that Boederer's 
scheme was brought forward. In describing the 
mechanism which he proposed he used a word 
which was new to the generation of Frenchmen 
that heard him, though it represented a thing that 
is as old as despotism itself. He spoke of central- 
ization^ of a centralization, too, which was to confer 
upon Bonaparte the power to organize a nation of 
thirty millions like a single regiment. It was not 
that elementary centralization which gives to a 
general government the entire control of such af- 
fairs as pertain to the interests of the nation as a 
whole ; but rather that plenitude of central author- 
ity which is characteristic of despotism when it is 
organized and provided with all the necessary ma- 
chinery for the accomplishment of its purposes. 



THE RISE OF JSTAPOLE OJSTISM. 211 

It was the centralization of Richelieu and Louis 
XIV. restored and brought to perfection. 

But in order to understand the character and 
importance of this new scheme, we must constantly 
bear in mind the part which centralization had al- 
ready played in the history of the country. In 
the time of Richelieu it had been resorted to for 
the j)urpose of subduing an insolent and a tyran- 
nical nobility. The system of intendances of Rich- 
elieu was brought to perfection by Louis XIV., but 
was finally, even before the Revolution, abandoned 
as oppressive and useless. In the time of Turgot 
provincial assemblies were organized, which con- 
tributed much to the overthrow of the old regime. 
The functions of these were still further extended 
under the Constituent Assembly. There can be 
no jDOssible question that the provincial legislature, 
organized by the Assembly, contributed vastly to 
revive something of that local energy in France 
which had been stifled by two centuries of central- 
ization, but which now again began to show signs 
of a hopeful vitality. Furthermore it must be ad- 
mitted that the Convention^ though it ruled with 
an iron hand, never interfered with the local as- 
semblies ; on the contrary, it recognized the service 
of those assemblies in stimulating the national pa- 
triotism against united Europe. When calmer 
times returned, and the Constitution of the year 
III. was adopted, about five thousand cantonal 
administrations were organized and charged with 
the independent management of local affairs. 



212 DEMOCRACY AND MONARCHY IN FRANCE. 

These administrations were created absolutely out 
of nothing, and consequently they labored under 
all the embarrassments incident to the political in- 
experience of the people and the chaotic condition 
of society ; and yet they accomplished enough to 
show that in the hands of a statesman they might 
have served as a firm basis for constitutional lib- 
erty. No such decentralizing method, however, 
was compatible with the ideas of Napoleon. The 
cantonal governments, accordingly, were all swept 
away, and in their j^lace nothing was substituted. 
Municipal governments, it is true, were re-estab- 
lished, but they turned out to be mere machines 
for keeping the people in absolute bondage ; for 
not only the mayors, but also the members of the 
city council, were all nominated by the central 
power. 

The same method of appointment prevailed in 
the administration of the arrondissements. These 
newly established geographical divisions of the 
country seem to have been created for the very 
purpose of destroying all public life, and prevent- 
ing any possible concert of resistance. Their 
boundaries were entirely arbitrary, drawn without 
any regard to local manners or customs, often even 
uniting people speaking different dialects and 
separated by chains of mountains. Over these 
were placed prefects and sub-prefects appointed by 
the authorities at Paris, and it was easy for these 
agents of the general government (for they were 
nothing else) to manipulate the disorganized 



THE BI8E OF NAPOLEONISM. 218 

masses at will. Thus having obtained the power 
to nominate and dismiss at his pleasure the mem- 
bers of all local administrations, Bonaparte's con- 
trol of the executive functions of the government 
was complete. Henceforth every tax was collected 
and every bridge was repaired by men who owed 
their position to his favor, and to his favor alone. 

But this gigantic work of centralization would 
have been incomplete if it had not embraced the 
administration of justice. The government, there- 
fore, now laid hold of this as it had already laid 
hold of the executive and of the legislature. 

It is unnecessary to follow out in detail the pro- 
cess by which the work was accomplished. It is 
sufficient to say, on the one hand, that under the 
Constituent Assembly all efforts in the direction of 
the judiciary had sought to insure the independence 
of the judges ; on the other, that under the consti- 
tution of the year VIII. the ministers of justice 
were all made dependent upon the arbitraiy will 
of the Consul. Buike has somewhere said that the 
crowning work of good government is to put 
twelve good men into the jury-box ; the crowning 
act of Napoleonic centralization was to subordinate 
the whole court to the will of the chief executive. 
It assigned to him the appointment of all the 
judges, of the president, of all the civil and crim- 
inal tribunals, of all the justices of the peace, and 
even of all the members of the jury.'^ Add to all 

* The jurymen were chosen by the prefect, who was appointed by 
the Consul. 



214 DEMOGBAGY AND 3I0NAIIGHY m FBAKGE, 

this the fact that the judiciaiy was made a regular 
service, in which promotion, as in the army, de- 
pended entirel}^ upon the will of the chief, and we 
are able to understand something of the temptation 
that was held out to the unscrupulous and the am- 
bitious. Well might Ganilh demand from the 
Tribune : " What will the tribunal become when the 
jury is chosen by the Government, when the direc- 
tors of the jury, the public prosecutor, the chief 
justice and the judges, are all guided by the pas- 
sions of the Government ? " and well he might an- 
swer : ''They will be simply commissioners of the 
Government." 

With the centralization of the three branches 
of the government in a single hand, JSTapoleonism 
may be said to have been complete. What a 
spectacle it was ! We have seen that in the time 
of the Eevolution an honest effort was made to 
give the control of all local affairs into the care of 
local administrators ; in less than five years after 
Bonaparte received the command of the army of 
Italy, he was in the possession of more absolute 
power than had been enjoyed by the proudest of 
kings under the old regime. If the President of 
the United States should have the power of ap- 
pointing all the judges both federal and local, all 
the justices of the peace and all the jurymen, all 
the governors of States and the subordinate State 
officers, all the supervisors and tax-commissioners, 
all the mayors and members of city councils, all 
the sheriffs and constables ; and if, in addition to 



THE RISE OF NAPOLEOJSflSM. 215 

these, he should be placed in command of a large 
and devoted standing army, our government would 
present an aspect much like that of France under 
the First ConsuL 

From the passage of the Act of Centralization, 
in the year 1800, up to the day when the sword of 
Napoleon was broken at Leipsic, there was no 
power in France that could for a moment stand 
up against his will. All seeming limitations of 
his authority were mere words and shadows. 
Sieyes might have said with a peculiar emphasis 
to the nation at large, what he said to the sup- 
porters of the coup (Vetat^ " You have a master." 
There can be, perhaps, no better summation into 
a single phrase of the political condition of the 
country than that embodied in the plagiarism of 
Napoleon himself : La Franoe dest un homme^ et 
cet homme, c'est moi. 



i 



THE RESTORATION. 



" Au lieu d'accepter franchement les resultats acquis de la 
Kcvolution, de lui emprunter non-seulement ses serviteurs, 
mais surtout ses principes, ses symboles et ses emblemes, la 
Kestauration aima mieux declarer ^ la Revolution une guerre 
impuisante, guerre de mots, car il n'etait pas en son pouvoir de 
revenir sur les clioses, et elle ne pouvait qu'alarmer et irriter 
ses ennemis sans les detruire." — Prevost-Paradol, La France 
JSfouvelle, p. 311. 



10 



CHAPTER y. 



THE EESTOEATION". 



HISTORY never gave to man a greater op- 
portunity than that which she presented to 
Napoleon the First. The work of centralization 
in France has often been compared with that of 
the Roman government at the fall of the Repub- 
lic. Their points of diifference, however, are not 
less conspicuous than their points of similarity. 
Julius Csesar was called upon to administer a re- 
public that was enfeebled and expiring, while 
l^apoleon found himself at the head of a nation 
that was throbbing with the energies and possi- 
bilities of renewed manhood. Furthermore, while 
Rome divided her auctions between Caesar and 
Pompey, Napoleon was absolutely without a 
rival. Never has any nation given itself more 
completely or more heartily into the hand of a 
single person than France gave herself into the 
hand of her master. The question, then, which 
history properly asks, is not what Napoleon accom- 
plished, but how does what he accomplished com- 
pare with what he ought to have accomplished ? 

That the emperor did much that was for the 
advantage of his country no impartial student of 
this period will be disposed to deny. The Di- 



220 I>EMOCBACY AND MONARGHT IJST FBANGE. 

rectory was doubtless tlie very worst government 
that the French people have ever had. When it 
came into power it was master^ not only of France, 
but also of a considerable portion of foreign soil. 
It had the most valiant armies and the most suc- 
cessful captains of Europe. It dictated the peace 
of the Continent, a peace Avhich the whole world, 
England scarcely excepted, sought almost with 
importunity. After a turbulent existence of ^lyq 
years, what was its condition ? 

Its conquests lost, the countries of its allies in- 
vaded, its armies annihilated, its territory divided, 
itself in universal contempt. And within the state 
the condition of affairs if possible was still worse. 
Disorders Avere perpetual; coups Wetat Avere in- 
cessant ; banishment Avas the only substitution for 
the scaffold ; forced, loans had reduced all euter- 
prise to bankruptcy; insecurity everywhere pre- 
A^ailed ; debauchery everyAvhere displayed a shame- 
less front ; public property Avas constantly subject 
to pillage ; private fortunes wei'e given over to ra- 
pine ; in short, the administration on the one hand 
Avas both corrupt and helpless, and society, on the 
other, Avas reduced to its last extremities. De 
Broglie has aptly said, that, Avhen the First Con- 
sul came upon the stage, he had but to take the 
trouble to stoop doAAm in order to pick up the re- 
public and put it into his pocket. Everybody 
clapped hands, and the poAver passed Avith scarcely 
a struggle from the inkstand to the SAVord. 

It is certainly no great praise of absolutism 



THE BEBTOBATION. 221 

to say that it is better than anarchy. The new 
Caesar laid his powerful hand upon this chaos, and 
affairs seemed almost instantly relieved as if by 
enchantment. Domestic society, parental author- 
ity, and the sanctity of marriage were re-estab- 
lished. A better administration of justice, faith in 
contracts, the rights of property, all these were re- 
instated. The government assumed the character 
of unity ; the finances were placed upon a firmer 
basis ; commerce was relieved from its worst en- 
cumbrances ; cities were cleansed and embellished ; 
public highways became secure ; places of resort 
were covered with monuments ; mountains were 
pierced with roads ; canals furrowed the soil ; 
everywhere, indeed, there came to be evidence of 
incomparable energy as well as of incomparable 
genius. 

But with these achievements, which alone wovX^ 
have spread a glorious halo over his name, Na- 
poleon unfortunately was not content. They were 
the means rather than the end of his ambition. 
Instead of cherishing a pacific policy, and develop- 
ing the domestic resources of the land, he con- 
scripted every new acquisition of strength into his 
own service. It is true that he restored the nation, 
at least temporarily, from what appeared to be a 
fatal malady ; but his subsequent course was like 
that of a physician who, after effecting a cure, in- 
sists that his patient shall reward him by spending 
his life in his service. 

Where in history, it may well be asked, is there 



222 DEMOGBAGY AND MONABGHY IN FRANCE, 

to be found a sj)ectacle more tragic or more toucli- 
ing than tliat of France in tlie last days of tlie Di- 
rectory ? Crushed by the terrible disasters of the 
Eevolution, covered with blood, and yet restless 
and troubled, famishing for peace, as well as for 
order and for liberty, groping for her way after i 
so many vain eif orts, and asking in anguish whether 
all this sacrifice and all this blood, whether all 
this glory and all these crimes, were to be abso- 
lutely for naught, and then, to use a figure of Louis 
Blanc's, submitting herself to be used as a post- 
horse on which one man might gallop at a panting 
speed toward the unknown ! 

There was in Napoleon, — and is there not in 
every genius ? — a strange admixture of weakness 
with greatness. His southern imagination, ever 
heated by a partial understanding of ancient 
history and distorted by false notions of the middle 
ages, kept before itself as models at one time Alex- 
ander, at another Caesar, at another Charlemagne. 
He was ever dreaming of crowns and thrones and 
purple robes for himself and for his friends ; and it 
was in the ignoble pursuit of these that he exhausted 
■ the best energies of his country. To employ a fig- 
ure of Prevost-Paradol, France was employed as a 
magic rod with which to turn everything to himself. 
The nation v^as worn out in his seivice, and when 
at last united Europe turned against him, he had 
nothing but a broken sword with which to defend 
the national soil. 

In the recently published Memoirs of Guizot, 



THE RESTORATION. 223 

there is an exceedingly vivid picture of the con- 
dition of France in the last days of the Empire, 
which I shall take the liberty of quoting. At the 
time to which the passage relates, Guizot had just 
won his first laurels as Professor of History in the 
O allege de France : 

" While ISTapoleon was using np the remains of 
his fortune and his power in this supreme struggle, 
there came to him from no part of France, — neither 
from Paris nor from the Departments, — and no 
more from his opponents, than from the people at 
large, any opposition or any obstacle. There was 
absolutely no enthusiasm for his defence, and there 
was very little confidence in his success. No one, 
however, attempted any opposition; there were 
some malevolent conversations, some threatening 
monitions, some moving about in anticipation of 
the end ; but these were alL The emperor acted 
with perfect freedom from all restraint, and witli 
all the power consistent with his isolation and the 
moral and material exhaustion of the country. 
There was never seen such public inertness in the 
midst of so much national anxiety, never so many 
malcontents abstaining from all action, never so 
many agents impelled to disavow their master, and 
yet serving him with so much docility. It was a 
nation of embarrassed spectators, who had lost all 
habit of interfering with their own individual lot, 
and who knew not what end they ought to hope 
for, or to fear, to the terri})le play of which they 
were the stake. I remained stationary in my 



224 DEMOGBAGT AND MONARCHY IN FRANCE. 

place before tliis spectacle, and, not seeing when 
or how it would end, I resolved, near the end of 
March, to go to Nimes in order to pass some 
weeks with my mother, whom I had not seen for a 
long time. I have still before my eyes the aspect 
of Paris. Among other things, I remember the 
Rue de Rivoli, which they were just beginning to 
construct. When I traversed it on the morning of 
my departure, I saw no workman, no stii'ring, ma- 
terials thrown together in heaps, scaffolds deserted, 
constructions abandoned for want of money, of 
hands, and of confidence ; everywhere new ruins. 
Among the population there w^as a universal air 
of uneasiness and of restless lassitude, as of men 
who w^ere in want equally of labor and of repose. 
During my journey along the route, in the villages 
and in the country, there was the same appear- 
ance of inaction and of agitation, the same visible 
impoverishment of the country ; there were many 
more women and children than men ; young and 
sorrow^ful conscripts on the march for their corps ; 
sick and w^ounded coming into the interior. It was 
a nation maimed and debilitated. 

"And by the side of this material distress was 
to be noticed a general moral perplexity, the 
trouble arising from antagonistic sentiments; an 
ardent desire for peace and a violent hatred 
of foreigners ; both irritation and sympathy tow- 
ard Napoleon, who was now condemned as the 
author of so many suiferings, and now celebrated 
as both the defender of the country and the 



THE RESTORATION. 225 

avenger of its injuries. And tliat which struck me 
as a very grave evil^ though I was far., at that time^ 
from ineasuring its full importance., was the 
marked inequality of sentiments among the dif- 
ferent classes of the j)opulation. Among the inde- 
pendent and enlightened classes there was a desire 
for peace, a distaste for the exigencies and the ex- 
periments of the imperial despotism^ an intelligent 
foresight of the fcdl., and an evident anticipation 
of another political regime. The masses of the 
people., on the contrary, ivhenever they abandoned 
their lassitude^ did it only to fall into fits of patri- 
otic rage., or into revolutionary longings. The 
imperial regime had disciplined the people without 
reforming them. They were calm in appearance, 
but it might have been said of the masses, as it was 
said of the emigrants, that they had forgotten noth- 
ing and had learned nothing. There was abso- 
lutely no moral unity in the country. There was 
neither common thought nor common passion, 
though there had been common experience and 
common misfortune. The nation was almost as 
blindly and as profoundly divided in its languor 
as it had recently been in its transports. 

'• I caught a glimpse of these bad symptoms, but 
I was young, and my mind dwelt rather uj)on 
hopes for the future than upon its perils. At 
Nimes I learned immediately of the events that 
had happened at Paris; M. EoyerCollard pressed 
me by letter to return; I set out at once, and a 
few days after my arrival I was appointed general 

10* 



226 DEMOGBAGY AND MONARGHT IN' FRANGE. 

secretary of tlie ministry of tlie interior, an office 
wMcli the king liacl conferred npon tlie Abbe de 
Montesquiou." ^' 

This grapMc picture of the general condition of 
France, and especially that portion of it which I 
have thrown into italics, reveals clearly, as it seems 
to me, the principal reason why the nation was 
willing to accept what, to a great extent at least, 
was a return to the old regime. 

It may be said that there is now nothing more cer- 
tain than this, that in the last days of the Empire 
Napoleon was abandoned by the intelligence and 
the wealth of the nation. If France had mani- 
fested a tithe of the enthusiasm which inspired the 
Kepublic of the early days of the Empire, Paris 
after the battle of Leipsic could, at least tempo- 
rarily, have been saved. But there was no heart 
whatever in the defence. When on the 30th of 
March, 1814, the last show of defence was affected, 
the men ready to fight and i^eady to die were not 
men in citizens' dress, but men in shirt-sleeves and 
men in rags. The bankers, the manufacturers, the 
shopkeepers, the notaries, the proprietors of houses, 
were ready to applaud the entry of the allies. On 
the evening of the tSOth, Marshal Marmont, his 
hat and his clothes pierced with balls which he 
had received in leading a last charge against the 
enemy, was obliged to listen to the entreaties of a 
panic-stricken bourgeoisie. Among those to whom 

* Memoires pour sermr a VMstoire de mon temps ^ tome I. p. 24 



THE RESTORATION. 227 

he was compelled to yield were Messieurs Perre- 
gaux and Laiitte, tlie Eothschilds of their time. 
It was found that the way for Napoleon's down- 
fall had long been prepared. While the people of 
the faubourgs had vainly cried " To Arms ! " the 
bourgeoisie either had remained silent, or had whis- 
pered, "Let him abdicate." It was revealed that 
those in charge had caused muskets without car- 
tridges to be distributed at the Hotel de Ville, and 
cartridges without muskets at the Place de la 
Revolution. King Joseph and Marshal Mar- 
mont were obliged by their own friends to yield, 
and that very night the programme of the funeral 
of the Empire was made out at a paltry village 
inn, in one of the suburbs of the capital. When, 
on the following day, Colonel Fabvier went to Es- 
sonne to report what he had seen to Napoleon, he 
was obliged to relate, though he did it with tears 
in his eyes, that the armies of the enemy were in 
possession of Paris, and, what was a thousand times 
worse, that they had been received with exultation. 
" But what do the people say of me \ " inquired 
the Emperor. " Sire, I dare not repeat it to you." 
" Come, what is it ? " " They vilify you on all 
hands." Thus it was that Paris, whose women, 
like those of Sparta, had not for centuries seen the 
smoke of an enemy's cam|)-fire, now received the 
hosts of the hostile kings with shouts of rejoicing. 
Look again at the reception of Napoleon on liis 
return from Elba. Twenty days were sufficient 
for his march from the Mediterranean to the 



228 I>EMOOBAGY AND IfOIiAEGIIY IN FRANCE. 

Seine. He caused himself to be hailed anew as 
Csesar, and as he entered Paris at one gate, the 
Bourbon dynasty, haggard and trembling, made 
haste to retire in an opposite direction. There 
was, as we have already seen, no opposition. 
Then, as if at once to arouse the slumbering or 
paralyzed pride of France, and to testify to Na- 
poleon's power over the world, there came the 
news from Vienna. The sovereigns there assem- 
bled had instantly on the landing of Napoleon 
sent orders to the armies which they had just dis- 
charged to wheel around and to set their faces 
toward Paris. Nothing could have been so well 
calculated to arouse the last energies of the French 
people; and yet the enthusiasm, if indeed it can 
be called such, was but faint and but temporary. 
The bourgeoisie, overcome by surprise at the 
strange news, showed a momentary flicker of en- 
thusiasm, but immediately it recovered its self- 
possession, and settled sullenly back into indiifer- 
ence or opposition. After the battle of Waterloo, 
men in caps and smock-frocks were daily posted 
under the windows of the Ely see Bourbon to 
I'aise the cry of Vive V Emjpereur I but it was in 
vain. While these feeble cries were going up, a 
far different one was heard in the legislative as- 
sembly, where the interests and passions of the 
intelligent and the rich found utterance. "Let 
him al)dicate," was the language of every tongue. 
If France had been proud of Napoleon, it is evi- 
dent that lier pride had now taken refuge among 



i 



THE BE8T0BATI0N. 229 

the most wretched of her children. When the 
allies once more entered the capital, once more the 
respectability of Paris put on its gayest attire, 
and " profaned the turf of Tuileries " by dancing 
joyfully in the very presence of the enemies' can- 
non.^ 

It can hardly be doubted, I think, that of all 
possible arrangements after the overthrow of E^a- 
poleon, the restoration of Louis XVIII. was, on 
the whole, the most satisfactory that could be 
made. The more substantial interests of the na- 
tion were thoroughly tired of the Napoleonic 
policy of war ; the King of Rome as Napoleon 
II., with Marie Louise as regent, therefore was 
out of the question, inasmuch as it was felt that 
he would be but the shadow of the emperor rul- 
ing from his place of exile. The Orleans branch 
of the Bourbon family was not yet sufficiently 
known to be a formidable rival, even if the law 
of primogeniture were not enough to set it aside. 

* If there is any doubt in the mind of any one as to the satisfaction 
felt by the better classes in Paris at the fall of Napoleon, such doubt 
may be removed by simply reading the address in which Villemain 
congratulated the Emperor Alexander on his victory. It was given in 
the presence of the French Academy on the 21st of April, 1814, 
Think of the Academy listening to words like these addressed to 
the leader of an invading army and the conqueror of Napoleon ! 
" Eloquence^ or rather Imtori/, loill celebrate this literary urbanity^ icheii 
it comes to tell of this war icithout ambition, this inviolable arid disinter- 
ested league, this royal sacrifice to the most cherished feelings immolated to 
the repose of nations, and to a sort of European patnotism. The valiant 
heir of Frederick has proved to us that the chances of arms do not 
cast down a genuine king from the throne ; that he always rises again 
nobly, borne up on the people's arms, and that he remains invincible 
because ho is loved." 



230 J^EMOGRACY AND 2I0NARGHY IN FMANCE. 

There was no one, therefore, better qualified than 
Louis XVIII. to bridge over the chasm of the 
past twenty -five years. Just as in England, after 
the Great Revolution, the people called to the 
throne the natural heir and successor of Charles 
I., whom they had beheaded, so in France the 
people were not likely to be content to raise to 
the head of the nation any other than the one 
who would link them most closely with the gov- 
ernment of Louis XVI. It mattered not that 
Louis XVIII. mounted the throne under the pat- 
ronage and protection of foreigners, so long as in 
the hearts of the upper bourgeoisie he was without 
a rival. It must be conceded, I think, that so far 
as it is possible for a government to be made good 
or bad by those in immediate control of it, there 
appeared to Louis XVIII., on his restoration, 
every possibility of the best government France has 
ever had. As in England on the restoration of 
Charles II., so now in France the j)eople were 
longing for anything, no matter what, that would 
give them rest. For this very reason they were 
in no mood to put conditions on their newly made 
king. They gave him the untrammelled opportu- 
nity of gathering up the best results of tlie past 
history of the nation and of the revolution, and 
of binding them into a renovated and vigorous 
nationality. The affairs of the country were in a 
chaos, longing for order, and it needed but a wise 
head and a skilful hand to mould them into any 
form that might be desired. That the restored 



THE RE8T0BATI0K 231 

dynasty was neitlier wise nor skilful we shall pres- 
ently see. 

The first impulse of the nation was a commer- 
cial one. Though it had been a maxim of Napo- 
leon that war should support itself, yet the con- 
tinued drain from the ordinary channels of in- 
dustry of so many men and so much material 
and money, could not but result in the practical 
destruction of the commercial equilibrium. This 
was especially manifest during the Hundred Days. 
It is the baldest commonplace to say that capital 
demands stability ; indeed, of all things, it must 
and will have stability, or it will hide itself away 
in obscurity. It was chiefly for this reason that 
the capitalists represented by Lafitte and Perre- 
gaux demanded the restoration of the Bourbons. 
And the sequel showed that in their demand they 
had not mistaken the commercial interests of the 
country. No sooner had it become certain that 
the crown was to be placed upon the head of 
Louis, than signs of an unwonted activity began 
everywhere to be seen. 

Even before the allies evacuated Paris it was 
evident that a vast change had taken place. In- 
dustries which had been paralyzed by the uncer- 
tainties of the Napoleonic rule suddenly began to 
throl) with signs of a new life. The change was 
at once felt in Paris, and it was soon afterwards 
felt in the provinces. In the Histoire de la JRes- 
tauration^ ])ar uii Ilomme (V Etat^^' it is asserted 

* Vol. III. p. G4. 



232 DEMOGBACY AND MONARCHY IN FRANCE. 

that " the ordinary receipts of the merchants in- 
creased tenfold ; all the young officers had boxes 
in the theatres and dinners at Very's. From this 
year, 1815, date most of the shop-keeping fortunes 
of Paris. It is impossible to imagine the immense 
expenditure of the leaders of the coalesced armies. 
The Grand Duke Constantine and his brother sank 
1,500,000 roubles in Paris in the course of forty 
days. Blucher, who received three millions from 
the French government, mortgaged his estates 
and quitted Paris, ruined by the gambling- 
houses." 

Louis Blanc, in commenting on the same period, 
declares with epigrammatic bitterness : " Paris 
sold herself at retail, after having, given herself 
over at wholesale, and had thus not even the merit 
of disinterested infamy. The city had its wages 
largely doled out to it. The enemies of France 
were prodigal, and the purveyors for this mob of 
enchanted revellers were as eager to gather the 
j)rofits of its intoxication, to the last farthing, as 
the mob itself was to riot to the last in pleasures 
and insolence." ^ 

It has often at the present day been a matter of 
regret that the Capital of France concentrates in 
itself so completely the various instincts, interests, 
and passions of the whole nation. Paris is France 
in almost the same sense that the city of Home 
was the vast empire over which she ruled. That 

* Histoire de Bix Ans, vol. I. p. 29. 



THE BESTOBATIOlSf. 233 

ascendency, if it did not begin in 1815, was then 
immensely strengthened. Paris was encircled by 
the allies just in proportion as the provinces had 
been subjected to j)lunder. Fields laid waste and 
desolate ; multitudes of petty proprietors ruined ; 
the agriculture of several provinces blasted ; opu- 
lent cities crushed under the weight of hostile con- 
tributions ; everything, indeed, that long-continued 
war and hostile occupation can do ; — these were 
the j)rice at which Paris was now enriched. 

But this prosperity, which at first was confined 
to Paris, and seemed even to exist at the expense 
of the provinces, soon spread over the whole coun- 
try. I know of nothing which shows better the 
possible recuperative energy of a people, after 
]:)rolonged national disaster, than the growth of 
French industry during the years that succeeded 
the Restoration. If any one has ever been deluded 
into saying or believing that the return of our 
soldiers after the late war to ways of peace and 
industry was something unparalleled in history, I 
commend to such a one the example of France be- 
tween 1814 and 1830. During twenty -three years 
the nation had been torn by almost incessant war. 
A million and a half of men had fallen, and nine 
billions of money had been lost forever. And yet 
in ten years from the close of the war the nation 
was in a condition of financial prosperity; the in- 
habitants of the land had increased by more than 
two millions ; tlie various industries were replete 
with activity ; in short, the scars of war seemed 



234 DEMOCRACY ANB MONARCHY IN FRANCE. 

to liave entirely disappeared, and the country was 
in a condition of perfect pliysical health. "^^ 

In view of these facts an important question 
arises. Why was not the nation content to re- 
main subject to the control of the government 
under which so much prosperity existed ? Why, ' 
in 1830, did the people deliver themselves up to 
revolutionary impulses, and, by the choice of 
Louis Philippe, establish a change of dynasty? 

An answer to these questions involves a two- 
fold discussion ; the one pertaining to the char- 
acter of the government, the other to that of the 
people. 

I have already said that when Louis XVIIL 
ascended tlie throne for the second time the people 
were in no mood to impose upon him conditions. 
France, in her trouble and in her longing for rest, 



* The recuperative energy shown by France since the war of 1870 
had its antecedent after the wars which terminated in 1815. There 
are few things more remarkable in the history of the French people 
than the rapidity with which they recovered from the prostrating 
effects of the Napoleonic wars. If one would understand this subject 
in its completeness, one should read the pamphlet of Baron Dupin enti- 
tled Situation Progressive des Forces de la France depuis 1814, Paris, 
1827. In this highly interesting hrochure the author proves conclu- 
sively that in all the branches of material industry the progress of the 
nation had been truly remarkable. Statistics are given to show that 
this extraordinary prosperity was characteristic, not only of agricul- 
tural and mineral products, but also of the various branches of manu- 
facture and commerce. The intellectual prosperity of the nation was 
not less marked. M. le Comte Daru, in his TaUeaux Statistiques des 
produits de VimprimeriefraiK^aise^ shows that while in 1814 the number 
of sheets issued (exclusive of the journals) was 45,675,039, in 1820 it 
was 80,921,302, and in 182G, 144,561,094. In journalism the increase 
was from 46,000,000 to 668,791,518 folio sheets.— i>wj?m, p. 46. 



THE RESTORATION. 235 

put herself confidingly into Ms hand. Moreover, 
the form of government established by the charter 
of 1814 was one which had many points of excel- 
lence ; some have even gone so far as to deem it 
the best that France had ever enjoyed. 

But every form of government, however good 
in itself, requires the exercise of at least some 
degree of sense and judgment in its administration. 
Among every earnest people there are certain 
views — call them failings, call them prejudices if 
you will — which it is always difficult and often 
impossible for a ruler to overcome. If a king be 
either very wise, like Henry IV., or very strong, 
like Louis XIV., he may impose upon his people, 
at least temporarily, a policy directly the oppo- 
site of the one which they desire. But Louis 
XVIII., was neither wise nor strong. His life had 
been one of misfortune. Lie had received harsh 
lessons. His family, insultingly proscribed, had 
been sent wandering through the world to beg a. 
contemptuous hospitality. At one time in Ger- 
many a petty king had caused to be conspicuously 
posted opposite where the exiled Bourbon was 
linding a night's lodging : " Beggars and pro- 
scril^ed joersons must not stop here more than a 
quarter of an hour." These harsh lessons pro- 
duced upon Louis an effect that is not uncommon 
under kindred circumstances. There is nothing 
that so displays and develops human weaknesses 
as a sudden transfer from very ill to very good 
fortune. The instantaneous throwing off of a yoke, 



236 DEMOCRACY AND MONARCHY IN FRANCE. 

the immediate transfer from extreme poverty to 
great wealth, will at once bring to the surface 
whatever impurities there are in one's nature. Per- 
haps it would not be too much to say that of all 
classes of people, the most obnoxious are the rich 
of to-day who were yesterday poor. This is but 
another form of saying what Carlyle has well said, 
that there are a hundred men who can bear adver- 
sity where there is one who can bear prosperity. 

So long as Louis remained in comparative ob- 
scurity and in exile, his deportment was of a 
character to move men's respect as well as their 
sympathy; the moment he was seated on the 
throne, however, he seemed chiefly anxious lest his 
people should get too low an estimate of his mag- 
nificence. The very first thing he did was to fly 
in the face of public opinion by forming his house- 
hold with all possible pomp. The hoarse cry for 
" Equality " had scarcely yet died away among 
.the people, and yet the very walls which had seen 
the executioner lay hands upon Louis XVI., were 
now redecorated with more than their former 
magnificence. The old etiquette was re-established, 
and the most illustrious names in France were 
scarcely illustrious enough to suj)ply the new 
court with its supernumerary functionaries. A 
grand master, a grand harbinger, a grand almoner, 
a grand master of the robes, a grand master of the 
ceremonies — such were some of the grand lumina- 
ries whose business it was, not to aid in governing 
the nation, but simply to throw light and splendor 



THE RESTORATION, 237 

upon the new court. Thus, instead of devoting 
himself assiduously to the welfare of the country, 
and surrounding himself with the ablest statesmen 
of the laud, the restored Bourbon gave himself 
up to the most demonstrative assurances of his 
power, and surrounded himself simply with mag- 
nificent nothings and nobodies. 

But in this same general line of weakness the 
king made another mistake that was vastly more 
important in its effects on the nation ; I refer to 
the establishment of a new nobility. 

The document which is known as the charter of 
Louis XVIII. was doubtless the work of honest 
men who sincerely strove to establish the best pos- 
sible foi'm of government. But while they were 
honest, they were mere theorists. With that per- 
sistent devotion to the ideal rather than to the prac- 
ticable and the possible, which has so often char- 
acterized French politics, they inquired, not what 
would be the best government for France in her 
present condition, but what is the best form of 
government of which any nation, under any cir- 
cumstances, is capable. The question was pre- 
cisely the same impracticaljle one that had been 
asked by the men of '89 and also by the men of 
'93 ; but it received a far diiferent answer, for 
the reason that the ])eople Vv^ere iu)\v living under 
the reign of a far different })olitic!al philosophy. 
Eousseau had passed away. The (extreme de- 
mocracy, of whicli lie was the ])arent, luid amply 
demonstrated its inability to rule the nation. 



288 DEMOGBACT AND MONARCHY IN FBANGK 

With the political speculators, therefore, Eousseau 
had gone out of fashion and Montesquieu had 
come in. 

In the Esijrii des Zois, the great work of Mon- 
tesquieu, there was concentrated an amount of 
learning and an amount of political wisdom which 
the scholar may even now study with considera- 
able profit. The author was a man of genius, 
and a genuine student of history. He had ob- 
served with satisfaction the workings of the Eng- 
lish constitution, and he believed that he found 
there the happiest solution of the difficult prob- 
lems which had been discussed by Cicero and 
Aristotle. 

Those who are familiar with that " master and 
guide of human reason," Aristotle, well remember 
that he makes this observation : that, in a state 
where the political powers represent only one of 
the three elements of society, there must of ne- 
cessity be a bad government. It is necessary, he 
affirms, that in every country the intellectual tal- 
ent and the moneyed interests should stand at the 
head of society. If you are governed by incapa- 
ble men, or men interested in disordei', your gov- 
ernment will speedily come to an end. But if 
you give to capable men and to the rich exclusive 
power, your organization will be a bad form of 
tyranny, that is to say, an oligarchy. The people 
must have their place, and their voice must be 
heard ; otherwise, the treasure and the blood of 
the nation are subject to abuse. If, on the other 



THE BESTORjiTlON. 239 

hand, you give everything to number and nothing 
to intelligence, you fall a prey either to the disor- 
der of a mob or to the oppression of a master. 
Every government, therefore, which is unmixed, 
that is to say, which consists of but one element 
of society, no matter which, is exclusive and ty- 
rannical. What is needed, therefore, is a union 
of all ; a strong government springing from the 
people, the most capable men at the head of af- 
fairs, and the vote of the people on all questions 
of liberty and property."^' 

These political principles, as true and as impor- 
tant now as when Aristotle taught them to the 
youthful Alexander, were accepted by Montes- 
quieu, as the foundation on which every good 
government must rest. He believed, moreover, 
that these conditions were best fulfilled by the 
government of England. It was his conviction 
that in no form could wealth and intelligence be 
so happily united, and exert so happy an influence 
for the conservation of a country, as by means of 
a hereditary peerage. 

It Avas, of course, easy to bring about that which 
accorded at once with the personal taste of the 
king and the earnest convictions of the political 
philosopher then in fashion. Accordingly, in 
utter disregard of the general sentiments of the 
people at large, the new government, even before 
the return of Napoleon, called a hereditary aris- 

* Aristotle, Politics, Bk. IV. Chaps. XII. and XIII. 



240 ItJEMOGBAGY AND MONARCHY IN FRANCE. 

tocracy into existence by the mere fiat of its will. 
Napoleon ridiculed what lie called his " cliamjpig- 
Qions de jpairsil'' but he could not do without their 
influence, and for this reason they were not swept 
away. 

It requires not much thought to enable one to 
see that few things could have been more unwise 
than this creation of a peerage. The question 
was not at all whether the wheels of government 
in England or in Germany move more easily with 
the help of a peerage or not ; it was, in the first 
place, whether a peerage can ever be created, and 
if it can, whether the condition of France de- 
manded an attempt to create one, and promised 
to make such an attempt successful. 

Look at those nations which have been benefited 
or injured, whichever you choose to regard it, 
by a hereditary peerage : at Rome, Spain, England, 
any of the states of the Middle Ages. Do you 
ever find such a jjeerage votedj into existence ? 
Has it not in every case been the work of power, 
harsh, relentless, military power, and that, too, in 
the very beginning of the nation's history % Call 
to mind the fate of the Locke and Shaf tsbury's 
scheme in our own South. It was not even digni- 
fied with a trial, and for the simple reason that 
where men could have their own choice, though 
there were enough willing to be dukes and earls, 
there were none willing to be anything else. 
There is, I think, no record of a peerage ever 
having been successfully created. It has either 



THE RESTORATION. 241 

planted and rooted itself firmly at the very mo- 
ment of a nation's rescue from primeval barbar- 
ism, or its subsequent efforts to take root have 
been unsuccessful. 

These historical facts would seem to be enough 
to discourage any nation from making such an at- 
tempt at any time. But in France, the argument 
of these general facts was even reinforced by 
every special consideration. Before the Revolu- 
tion of l789j had there been anything so obnox- 
ious to the masses of the people as the nobility ? 
Was thei'e anything for which the people had 
striven with more fidelity and with more zeal 
than for the crushing of the nobility ? Of all the 
results of the Revolution, there was perhaps no 
one which the people looked upon with more sat- 
isfaction than the sweeping away of that very 
distinction between classes which the government 
now proposed to reinstate. No possible move- 
ment of the king, therefoi'e, could have been more 
unpopular. 

What w^as the result ? Precisely that which 
was natural and which should have been foreseen. 
The nation, which was in a mood to be united in 
firm support of the new government, and which 
would have been united but for the inexcusable 
blunders of the king, was divided into irreconcil- 
able factions. 

Moreover, the personal composition of the new 
peerage was such as to arouse an infinite amount 
of jealousy and consequent disorder. The king 



242 DEMOCRACY AND MONARCHY IN FRANCE, 

miglit even liave avoided a considerable portion 
of tlie difficulty by simply reinstating the old no- 
bility, a method that would have been the part of 
consistency as well as the part of prudence. In 
all his manifestoes the king ignored completely the 
mighty facts of the past nineteen years. He was 
even so obtuse as to date his reign always from 
the deatli of Louis XVI. Consistency demanded 
that he should reinstate the peerage in the same 
manner. But no : its personnel was recast without 
scruple and without shame. Certain peers of the 
nation were swept away and others were retained ; 
in short, the peerage was a new creation, and a 
mere mode of recompense for personal services. 
If the old nobility had been the most powerful 
enemy of the throne, what was to be awaited fi'om 
the new ? To give the briefest possible answer, 
the king not only gave ofence to the bourgeoisie, 
the party to which he owed his crown, and to the 
lower orders of the people, the party in whose in- 
terests the nobility had been swept away, but he 
also divided the allegiance of the nobility itself by 
the bungling manner in which he had created it. 

There were then in the nation three parties : the 
nobility and its supporters ; the bourgeoisie, em- 
bracing merchants, bankers, land-owners, and pro- 
fessional men ; and lastly, the lower orders of the 
people. 

It is not necessary for me to attempt to trace 
the struggles of these parties through the reigns 
of Louis XVIIL, Charles X., and Louis Philippe. 



THE RESTORATION. 243 

The thirty-three years which intervene between 
the restoration of the Bourbon dynasty and its 
overthrow seem to me to be far more remarkable 
for violent party strife than for earnest effort to 
gather up the best results of the Revolution and to 
work them into a renewed and healthy nationality. 

At the beginning of the struggle, the bour- 
geoisie was the party in power. Through its in- 
strumentality, at least by means of its support, 
the king had regained his throne. Moreover, the 
laws concerning elections gave to it an advantage 
which amounted to almost absolute legislative 
authority. As no one could become a member of 
the Assembly who did not pay a direct tax of a 
thousand francs, and as no one could vote who 
did not pay a tax of three hundred francs, the 
common people were excluded not only from di- 
rect power, but also from all direct influence. 

The bourgeoisie, thus possessing absolute legis- 
lative supremacy, lost no opportunity to make 
their power felt. A struggle at once began be- 
tween the throne and the legislature similar to 
that which had existed between the Directory and 
the Council before the 18th Brumaire. The i)re- 
amble of the Charter, for example, stated that the 
whole authority of the government resided in the 
person of the monarch, and though the king pos- 
sessed the initiative of all laws, yet the Assembly 
found ample means of displaying its hostility and 
of demonstrating its power. 

First of all they succeeded in driving from power 



244 DEMOCRACY AND MONARCHY IN FRANCE. 

the king's prime minister, Fouclie, a man who, 
it is true, had twisted himself snake-like through 
every party, but who, nevertheless, had been 
deemed by the king a necessary part of the res- 
toration. They then began a series of sharp at- 
tacks on the royal policy ; and finally they sought 
and found an opportunity to break over the 
charter. This they did by means of an open ex- 
ercise of the initiative brought about in this 
manner. The king proposed that royalist ven- 
geance should be limited to nineteen persons of 
note to be given over to the tribunals, and to thirty- 
eight persons to be sentenced to banishment. The 
rage of the Chamber rose to its highest pitch at 
this proposed act of indulgence. Nothing could 
be more overbearing than the course which the 
legislature pursued. Without waiting for the 
constitutional initiative by the king, it attempted 
to proscribe at one blow all the marshals, all the 
generals, all the prefects, all the high function- , 
aries implicated in Bonaparte's return, and to ex- 
clude forever from the soil of France all the 
members of the Eonaparte family. It required 
all the adroitness of the Due de Richelieu to 
prevent the passage of this measure ; and it failed, 
not on account of its unconstitutionality, but 
on account of what was finally thought its inexpe- 
diency. 

An. issue even more important was raised by the 
proposed system of elections. Two methods pre- 
sented themselves : the one creatine; an electoral 



THE RESTORATION. 245 

college in eacli district, and giving to tlie king the 
power of attaching to each college justices of the 
peace, mayors, vicars-general, cures, etc., appointed 
by himself ; the other establishing a direct elec- 
tion in two degrees in such a manner as to give 
an overwhelming power to the rich. The former, 
it will be seen, would make the king independent 
by giving him virtual control over the elections ; 
the latter would give to the bourgeoisie the entire 
legislative power of the nation. It was the latter 
which prevailed; and from that time on, there 
was an unequal duel betvv^een the throne and the 
legislature — a duel like that between Pym and 
Charles I., or that between Robespierre and Louis 
XVI. — but it was a duel in which every advan- 
tage was on the side of the Assembly. 

Now, in order to appreciate the bitterness with 
which this straggle was carried on, one must keep 
in mind one or tw^o facts concerning the real 
nature of the political situation. In the first 
place, as I just said, all the powers of the govern- 
ment were expressly declared in the preface of 
the charter to emanate from the king. But as a 
matter of fact the most important acts were per- 
formed by the Assembly, not only independently 
of the king, but even in open violation of the 
king's expressed will. This discrepancy fuiiiished 
grounds for the loudest complaints ; complaints 
which were far more numerous and far moi'e bit- 
ter by I'eason of the peculiar composition of the 
Assembly. Statistics pul)lis]ied by the ministry 



246 DE3T0CBACT AND MONARCHY IN FRANCE. 

showed that the number of persons in the nation 
who j)aid taxes amounting to 300 francs, the sum 
necessary to the exercise of the franchise, was 
only 90,878, and to them the electoral law gave 
the exclusive parliamentary power. The fact 
clearly shows us that the Assembly not only 
usurped the powers which constitutionally be- 
longed to the king, but that it usurped them in 
the interest of the lich, in utter disregard of the 
millions in whose interest the best work of the 
Kevolution had been done. 

]^ow, of all this could there be but one result ? 
The evil day might be postponed, but it was sure 
to come, unless these conditions were to be radi- 
cally changed. The Revolution had not been in 
vain ; and though men from sheer exhaustion might 
for a time be prevented from an overwhelming 
uprising, yet it required no prescience to foresee 
that in the end such an uprising would be inevi- 
table. 

But while the great harvest of 1848 was thus 
slowly ripening, there was an abundant fruitage of 
a minor sort. One has but to turn over the pages 
^ of Lamartine, of Louis Blanc, or of Guizot, to see 
how utterly without system, I had almost said 
how utterly anai'chic, was the history of the time. 
On the political surface there were discords without 
number. Beneath it society was full of conspira- 
cies and treacherous instigations. Spies flitted 
from the capital to the rural districts, and from 
the rural districts to the capital. Villanous 



THE BESTOBATION, 247 

snares were laid for men's lives, arrests were in- 
cessant, and the executioner had abundant oppor- 
tunity for the exercise of his craft. 

And this deplorable condition of aiffaii's was 
not essentially changed on the accession of Charles 
X. Was not changed ? Rather, I should say, it 
was changed for the worse. The new king had 
been bred to the most extravagant notions of the 
divine right of kings, and he brought to the 
throne a most uncompromising determination to 
resist every tendency to parliamentary usurpation. 
The struggle, therefore, between the two discord- 
ant and contradictory elements was more hostile 
than ever. The most sincere and most ardent 
constitutionalists attempted to reconcile them, but 
to no purpose. Fouche, Decazes, Villele, Riche- 
lieu, Martignac, Polignac, all alike failed to solve 
the problem which appeared hopeless, and perhaps 
now was hopeless. 

At length, perhaps as an act of desperation, the 
king resorted to a violent and outrageous stretch 
of the prerogative in the five celebrated ordi- 
nances of the 25th of July. The act threw a fatal 
advantage into the hands of the enemy, an advan- 
tage which was seized with eagerness and used 
with determination. The Revolution of 1830 was 
the consequence. Thus Charles X. lost his throne 
by an explosion of materials that had long been 
collecting. The five ordinances were nothing but 
the glowing match that fired the train. 

In the beginning of the reign of Louis Philippe 



248 DEMOGBAGT AND MONARGnY IN FRANCE. 

it seemed for a short time that tlie nation was likely 
to find repose from the turmoils which had so long 
distracted it. In his election the country had re- 
pudiated the venerable principle of divine right. 
He was called to the throne by the spontaneous 
voice of the people at the moment when the best 
interests of • the nation were in peril from the rash 
folly of an implacable tyrant. Then, too, the an- 
tecedents of the king were such as to give promise 
of an auspicious reign. He was not only a gen- 
uine admirer of English institutions, but, what 
was even more important, he also desired to com- 
form, as far as practicable, the constitution of 
France to that of England. The charter of 1815 
honestly adhered to, freedom of popular election, 
two legislative chambers, the press substantially 
but not absolutely independent, such were the lib- 
eral principles with which the house of Orleans 
began its political career. It would seem that 
with the guidance of no more even than a mod- 
erate amount of political sagacity, such a pro- 
gramme would have satisfied the nation and would 
have been sufficient to heal it at least of its worst 
disorders. 

But alas ! it soon appeared that the maladies of 
the country were far more deep-seated and more 
organic than the political doctors had suspected. 
Scarcely was the new king seated upon his throne, 
when it became painfully apparent that the dis- 
ease had not been cured : that it had been for a 
moment merely soothed and concealed. It became 



THE BESTORiiTIOlSr. 249 

speedily patent that the old elements in society 
were as combustible as ever, and that at any mo- 
ment it required but the smallest amount of fric- 
tion to produce explosion and disaster. 

Almost as soon as the crown had touched the 
brow of Louis, four ex-ministers of Charles X. 
were summoned for political offences to public 
trial before the Chamber of Peers. As the re- 
sult of the trial, they were condemned to imprison- 
ment for life, with the loss of their titles, rank, 
orders, and civil rights ; but for no other reason 
than because the sentence fell short of capital pen- 
alty, the populace became so savagely exasperated, 
that the gravest apprehensions concerning the re- 
sult were entertained. But a short time later an 
insurrection broke out in Lyons. After three days 
of desperate fighting, it was 23ut down by the 
Duke of Orleans and Marshal Soult, but not until 
after there had been a deplorable sacrifice of life. 

Thus discontents showed themselves everywhere. 
There was the party known as the Legitimist, made 
up of adherents of the elder branch of the Bourbons, 
who acknowledged allegiance to the Duke of Bor- 
deaux (Henry V.) as their lawful sovereign ; and 
these of course lost no opportunity to foment dis- 
orders. There was the party composed largely of the 
bourgeoisie, who had gained such control of affairs 
in the time of Louis XVIIL ; and as they now saw 
the power slipping from their hands, they gave to 
the government but an indifferent support. Then, 
most formidable of all, there was looming up the 
11* 



250 I>EMOCRAOT AND MONARCHY IN FRANCE. 



party of Democrats — the party whidi saw itself 
deprived of all political power through the ma- 
noeuvres of the law of elections — the party from 
which nothing but the most violent opposition was 
to be awaited. 

These elements in the state, taken in connection 
with the prevailing revolutionary temper of the 
French peoj^le, undoubtedly formed one of the most 
difficult of political problems ; and yet, if the min- 
istry had been made up with due reference to the 
demands of the different parties, and if the law of 
elections had been so modified as to give to the 
people a reasonable voice in \hQ government, it is 
difficult to detect any sufficient reason why the 
government might not have survived. The elements 
of the problem were in many respects similar to those 
which confronted William III. of England after 
the Revolution of 1688. But while in England 
the policy of reconciliation was the one adopted, in 
France the government chose the policy of de- 
fiance. The king selected his ministers exclu- 
sively from a single party — the party, of course, 
which was most friendly to himself. At the be- 
ginning of his reign, he commanded a decided 
majority in both houses of the legislature. But it 
soon appeared that there were misunderstandings 
and divisions even among the Orleanists themselves. 
Ere long it became painfully apparent that dissen- 
sions and jealousies were creeping in, and that the 
throne was in danger of being undermined by the 
very parties to whom it owed its existence. Its 



THE RESTOBATIOm 251 

revolutionary origin, if nothing else, should have 
made the king constantly mindful of the fact, that 
if at any time the favor and support of the joeople 
should be withdrawn, he would be obliged to yield 
up his crown in imitation of his predecessor. 

During the last years of this struggle, the man- 
agement of affairs was committed to the hand of 
the great historian whose works were already 
known and admired in both hemispheres. On the 
29th of October, 1840, the formation of a new cab- 
inet was intrusted to M. Guizot. From that time 
until the Revolution of 1848, his policy was of so 
much importance that I shall devote the next 
chapter to its consideration. 



1 



THE MINISTRY OF GUIZOT. 



*'L' Action des assemblees representatives, la libre discussion 
des affaires publiques au dedans et dehors de leur enceinte, la 
liberte electorale, la liberte religieuse, la liberte de la presse, la 
liberty du travail, I'cgalite civile, I'independence judiciaire, 
telles sont aujourd'hui les imperieuses conditions du goaverne- 
ment libre." — Guizot, Memoires^ VIII. p. 3. 

"L'Esprit revolutionnaire ne reconnait pas plus les droits de 
la volonte d'un peuples regulierement experimente que celle d'un 
souverain. II caracterise ces liberaux pretendus qui, soit par 
naivete, soit par quelque autre raison, ne reculent pas devant 
I'idee contradictoire d'imposer la liberte. Ceci est une nialadie 
morale dont le remede ne se trouve pas dans les institutions. 
On ne pent la guerir qu'en restaurant dans les ames le senti- 
ment de I'obeissance et la notion du respect du ^ la loi."— iVa- 
vilUj La JReformc Electorale en France^ p. 25. 



CHAPTEE VI. 

THE MINISTRY OF GUIZOT. 

THE first ten years of tlie reign of Louis 
Philippe were marked with frequent and 
great disorders. Expressions of discontent break- 
ing out, now here, now there, led to frequent 
changes in the ministry, — changes so frequent, in- 
deed, that it would be difficult to show that there 
w^as any one line of policy underlying and inspir- 
ing the course of the government. Perier, Soult, 
Thiers, Mole, each undertook the administration of 
affairs ; but neither of them was able to reconcile 
the conflicting elements of the nation, or to sup- 
press the turbulence which everywhere prevailed. 
The revolutionary spirit, of which I have so often 
spoken, was still active; and consequently no 
movement of the government was received with 
general favor. 

The three parties into which the political sym- 
pathies of the people were then, just as they are 
still, divided were so nearly equal in strength that 
neither of them was able to gain and to hold a 
majority. If the nation had been pervaded by a 
conciliatory spirit this fact might not have been 
fatal to the prevalence of good order; but the 
government itself had a revolutionary origin, and 



256 DEMOGBAGY AND MONARGHT IN FBANGE. 

the revolutionary spirit, Avhich was all-pervasive, 
argued with, faultless logic that it had the same 
right to resist the Orleanists that the Orleanists 
had maintained and carried out in resisting the 
Legitimists. The result was not only that the 
two parties out of power were always in the 
majority, but also that . they were always dis- 
posed to use their advantage for the annoyance 
and overthrow of their opponent. Thus, whatever 
policy was adopted by the ministry, it was sure to 
be outvoted in the Chamber of Deputies. Not 
even the unscrupulous inconsistencies of Thiers 
enabled him to keep a majority in his favor, though 
to all appearances he could change his convictions 
as easily as he changed his garments. "^^ 

* Whatever may be thouglit of tlie presidency of Thiers after the 
close of the Franco-Prussian war, I imagine it will be difficult for any 
one who studies his early political career with care, to entertain for 
liim any sincere respect. He began his career in the columns of the 
National as an apostle of extreme liberal opinions, but his views under- 
went a sudden change as soon as the Revolution was accomplished and 
he had a seat in the cabinet. He was the chief author of the famous 
" Laws of September," which were far more characteristic of an abso- 
lute, than of a limited, monarchy. Again, as soon as he was over- 
thrown, he veered round to the contrary direction and strongly con- 
tested the royal prerogative. Through the vigor of his opposition, the 
Duke de Broglie was defeated in the Deputies (January, 1836), and he 
was again called into power as president of the Council. His persistent 
determination to interfere in Spanish affairs, however, brought him in- 
to such an attitude before the nation, that he was obliged to retire 
after an administration of only six months. Once more out of power, 
he threw himself again into the opposition, and finally busied himself 
politically by supporting, if, indeed, he did not originate, the banquets 
which resulted in the fall of Louis Philippe. In all this it is difficult to 
detect any political consistency whatever. He has evidently believed 
in nothing but success, and this fact is probably the best explanation, 



THE ministry' OF GUIZOT. 257 

On the accession of the Ministry of October, 
1840, however, all this was changed. From that 
time on the government had a policy — a policy 
which at least had the merit of consistency, wdiat- 
ever may be thought to have been its weaknesses 
and its mistakes. It was under that government, 
that affairs were ripened for the Revolution, and 
it is with that government, therefore, that we have 
now especially to deal. 

When the portfolio of the government was en- 
trusted to Guizot, there seemed to be every reason 
to hope that nevv^ vigor and new wisdom would be 
imparted to the general conduct of affairs. This 
eminent historian and statesman brought to the 
task of forming the cabinet and determining its 
policy a most thorough knowledge of his own 
country and a most extensive acquaintance with 
those nations from whose history France had the 
most to learn. ISTo man in France had studied the 
history of that country more thoroughly ; no man 
had brought from his study such valuable results. 
He was not only most enlightened in the history 
of his own country; he, better than any other 
Frenchman, also knew the history of England. 
He had made an especial study of that portion of 
English history which, at this moment, France 
needed most to understand. His collection of 

not only of his political career, but also of his political and historical 
writings. His History of the Consulate and Empire, which is little but a 
glorification of Napoleon in twenty volumes, has exerted on the French 
people a more pernicious influence, I have no doubt, than that of any 
other book since the Dll Gontrat Social of Rousseau. 



258 JDEMOGRAGY AND MONARCHY IN FRANCE. 

original memoirs of tlie Englisli Ke volution liad 
placed before Ms countrymen the best possible 
means of informing themselves of the details of 
that great event ; and but a short time later, his 
History of the Eevolution had given them a dis- 
tinct view of the successes which it had achieved 
and of the mistakes which it had committed. In 
addition to all these qualifications, a long and try- 
ing experience at the court of St. James had given 
him a thorough insight into the practical workings 
of the English government. It is safe to say that 
no other man in France was so well qualified by 
ability, by study, and by experience, to direct the 
nation out of its troubles as was M. Guizot. 

As a still further qualification for his high office, 
Guizot had been associated with the government 
of Louis Philippe from its beginning. He had 
carefully observed its faults and studied its weak- 
nesses. In the light of his knowledge of the past 
history of France, in the light of his knowledge 
of the English Revolution with its successes and 
its mistakes, he brought to the direction of a:ffairs 
a jDolicy that was carefully and elaborately ma- 

, tured. As this policy was consistently pursued to 
the end, it is of great importance that it should be 
thoroughly understood. 

The works of Guizot leave us in no doubt con- 
cerning the nature of his political views. What 
he regards as the essential characteristics of good 
government are carefully stated in the eighth vol- 
ume of his Memoirs.^ and they are so important 



THE MINISTRY OF OUIZOT. 259 

that I shall make such extracts as may be neces- 
sary to place them before the reader. 

First of all, in settling the question as to what 
n, true government shonld be, he says : 

" A great noise has been made, and is still made, 
over the words ^ parliamentary government.' The 
question suggested is of more importance than the 
noise which it raises. It pertains to quite another 
thing, and to much more than that which they call 
' parliamentary government.' That which France 
has been seeking, since 1789, above all the vicissi- 
tudes of its situation and its destiny, that which 
Europe demands from its confused but obstinate 
vows, i^free government. Political liberty, that is 
to say, the intervention and the efficacious control of 
the people in their government, has been the need 
and the struggle, active or latent, of the social state 
which for nineteen centuries under the Christian 
religion, and by the natural course of modern civil- 
ization, has been developing in the European na- 
tions and which prevails wherever these nations 
carry their spirit with their empire. Parliamen- 
tary or not, is a government a free government, or 
in the course of becoming such ? That is the ques- 
tion." ''^- 

But what are the conditions of such a free gov- 
ernment ? In answer, Guizot says : 

" The action of re^jresentative assemblies ^ free 
discussion of jpuhlic affairs within and ivithont 

* Memoirea pour servir d Vllistoire de mon temps. Edition i/itei'dite 
pour la France, vol. VIII. p. 1. 



260 DEMOGBAGT AND MONARCHY IN FRANCE. 

such assemhlies^ electoral liberty.^ religious liberty^ 
liberty of the press^ liberty of labor ^ civil equal- 
ity., an independent judiciary^ — such cere to-day 
the imperious conditions of free government. At 
the same time, diversity of social conditions, inte- 
rior or exterior, has called up, has even made neces- 
sary, for a free government in different states very 
different forms. The republic is no longer the 
only possible form, the only natural form, nor even 
the only good form of government the state of 
society admits ; it exacts in certain cases the form 
of monarchy." "^ 

The author then proceeds to show that these 
^^ iwyperious conditions''^ are in fact complied with 
in states having very different modes of govern- 
ment ; that they are found both in the United 
States of America and in England ; that they have 
been developed under a republican form in Switz- 
erland, while in Holland and in Belgium they flour- 
ish under the aegis of monarchy. He then adds : 

'' But if a free government admits of a variety 
of forms, it does not admit of a confusion of them. 
If it can receive different organizations, they are 
simply different means by which it attains its end, 
an end which is always the same, namely : liberty 
and a continuance under the protection of liberty. 
!Now of all the conditions of free government, the 
first and the most imperative is that responsibility, 
— responsibility true and serious, — should attach 

* lUd. p. 3. 



THE MINISTRY OF OUIZOT 261 

itself to tlie exercise of power. If power is not 
responsible, liberty is not guaranteed. It is espe- 
cially in what pertains to the responsibility of 
power that the diversity of forms of free govern- 
ment imposes the employment of very diifferent 
means. I consult experience; I interrogate anew 
the two governments to which I have already re- 
ferred. In the republic of the United States of 
America responsibility of power resides in the 
election of president, in the short duration of his 
term of office, in the complete separation of his au- 
thority from that of the representative bodies ])y 
his side. Evidently such means could not be used 
in monarchy. The constitutional monarchy of 
England has accomplished the same end in 
another manner : it has declared in principle that 
the king can do no evil, and it has imposed upon 
counsellors all the responsibility of his govern- 
ment. I do not enter into a discussion and a com- 
parison of these two diiferent forms of free gov- 
ernment and of the different systems of responsi- 
bility which are j)eculiar to them ; I state the 
facts. The English monarchy and the American 
republic are two governments really free, and 
which satisfy all the actual exigencies of political 
liberty. In these two governments it is by very 
different means that responsibility of power — 
that necessary guarantee of political liberty — is es- 
tablislied and is exercised. Although very differ- 
ent in nature, these means, put to the actual test, 
have shown themselves ecpally efficacious; in 



262 DEMOCRACY AND MONARCHY IN FRANCE. 

both of these states responsibility of power is real, 
and political liberties are guaranteed." ^ 

After tlins showing that political liberty may 
exist either under a monarchy or under a republic, 
Guizot adds further in regard to its necessary con- 
ditions : 

" I insist first of all upon a fact which is often 
forgotten, but which may not be forgotten with- 
out a misunderstanding of the nature of the exi- 
gencies of a free government. One of the first 
liberties necessary under such a government is the 
libert}^ of its own agents, the free and voluntary 
action of men who exercise its important func- 
tions and direct its springs of action. Absolute 
power can only wish in its servants for docile in- 
struments capable of executing those wishes which 
stand in the place of laws. But under a regime of 
liberty, where publicity and discussion are univer- 
sal and where responsibility everywhere accom- 
panies power, no minister can exercise authority 
with advantage to the governed unless he is free 
to act in accordance with his own reason and his 
own will. The moment action is carried beyond 
the domain of material things and works legally 
prescribed, a free government demands of the men 
who take part in it that their concurrence be abso- 
lutely free. In the presence of national liberty, 
a certain degree of conviction, and I should say of 
personal passion, is indispensable to the actors in 

* Ibid. p. 6. 



THE MINISTRY OF GUIZOT. 263 

tlie political arena for their force and their suc- 
cess. Said M. Casimer Perier in the midst of his 
ardent struggle with riot and anarchy : ' It is not 
agents that I want, but it is accomplices.' " 

'' It is in consequence of this freedom of action/' 
the author further argues^ " that in all free govern- 
ments, whether monarchical or republican, politi- 
cal parties spring u|) naturally and of necessity. 
Whether these come from a similarity of interests, 
of ideas, or of passions, or of all these motives 
united, free association in such governments is 
the indispensable condition of regular and effica- 
cious political action. Such is the necessity of po- 
litical parties in free government, that when once 
formed they maintain and perpetuate themselves 
in spite of all the transformations which changing 
centuries impose upon men and society. The whig 
and tory parties in England, though born in the 
crisis of political liberty in the seventeenth cen- 
tury, and though somewhat magnified, are to-day 
reproduced under the names conservative and lib- 
eral^ and to-day preside over the destinies of their 
country. So in the United States, the parties 
which to-day struggle for the mastery are the le- 
gitimate successors of those which surrounded 
Washington and Jefferson." "^ 

But it is not in the hot fires of great revolutions 
that these political parties are formed which are 
destined to become active elements of free govern- 

* Ibid. p. 8. 



264 I>MMOGBAGY AND MONARCHY IN FBANGB. 



ment. They belong ratlier to tlie epoch of organi- 
zation after the revolution is accomplished, not to 
the period of military action itself. In France 
these parties were organized during the period of 
the Restoration. They were always embarrassed 
and often disfigured by those revolutionary and 
conspiring elements which perpetually mingled 
falsehood and discord in their constitutional con- 
tests. The Revolution of 1830 elevated and en- 
larged the role of political parties as the forces of 
free government. When the cabinet of October, 
1840, was formed, it was at the head of an organ- 
ized and consolidated party, — ^the very party, in- 
deed, which had accomplished the Revolution of 
1830 and placed Loais Philippe on the throne. 
This party had been chiefly instrumental in fram- 
ing the constitution which was then in force. It 
had, in fact, established and shaped the government 
as it then existed, and as long as it maintained its 
majority in the nation, it was but natural that it 
should determine the governmental policy. When- 
ever Guizot at the head of the ministry should fail 
to command the support of a majority of the Rep- 
resentatives, he professed himself ready to retire ; 
but until such a time should arrive, he maintained 
that his party should continue to have the direc- 
tion of public affairs. The very foundation of his 
political action was the unvarying belief that the 
king in conjunction with the representatives of the 
nation is the ruling j)ower, and that, in conse- 
quence of this conjunction, they must be kept in 



THE MINISTRY OF GUIZOT. 265 

the closest harmony. Their general policy must 
be the same; and as the king's policy was to find 
expression through his ministry, it follows that 
whenever the ministry takes ground on any im- 
portant question, it is to stand or fall according as 
it shall succeed or fail in securing the support of 
the legislative body. So long, therefore, as Gui- 
zot maintained the harmony of these conjoint 
branches of the government with each other, and 
so long as he himself enjoyed the confidence of 
each, it was incumbent upon him to continue in a 
steady adherence to the policy which he believed 
to be for the best good of the nation. When he 
failed to secure that harmony or that confidence 
it was evidently his duty to retire from his po- 
sition. What may be called his constitutional 
policy was, it will be seen, identical with that 
now universally acted upon in England. 

I have dwelt at length upon these views of Gui- 
zot, as they were absolutely necessary to a correct 
understanding of the part which he played. He 
has often been reproached for the firmness, even 
the stubbornness, with Avhich he resisted the de- 
mands of the opposition. The firmness of that 
resistance can only be correctly explained when one 
understands the thorough manner in which Guizot 
has studied the question in all of its bearings, and 
studied it, too, for the very purpose of fixing upon 
a line of policy which ought to be pursued. His 
convictions were of that positive, never-doubting 
nature which, in a man of his intelligence, can only 

12 



206 I>EMOCRAGY AND MONARCHY IN FRANCE. 

result from tlie most careful reasoning united with 
the most careful observation and experience. 

Then, too, the character of these fundamental 
views receives an additional importance from the 
nature of the work to be performed. In times of 
peace and of national quiet and prosperity, the 
political theories of the king or of his minister in 
regard to the proper relations of the executive and 
the legislative powers maybe of small importance ; 
but when there are questions to be decided on 
which the very perpetuity of the government de- 
pends, the importance of such convictions can 
hardly be over-estimated. The questions then pre- 
senting themselves in France were the most vital 
that can ever come up for decision. The main 
question was no less than this : whether the nation 
should be controlled by the intelligence and the 
pecuniary interests of the country, in pursuance of 
a fixed line of policy, or whether it should be sub- 
ject to the constantly changing phases of the revo- 
lutionary spirit. The Restoration, in 1814, as we 
have seen, was a triumph of the middle class over 
the proletariat. The Eevolution of 1830 was the 
tiiumph of the same middle class over absolutism ; 
and now the vital question under Guizot's admin- 
istration was, w^h ether the bourgeoisie should con- 
tinue to hold their power, or whether they should 
give it over to their sworn enemies. That a con- 
tinuance of the government was for the best inter- 
ests of the nation, I think there can be very little 
question. Whether such a continuance was possi- 



THE MINIS TBY OF OVIZOT. 26? 

ble depended upon the real character of the French 
people. 

Let us look for a moment at the objects which 
the government in the last days of Louis Philippe 
sought to accomplish. On turning again to Grui- 
zot's Memoires^ I find the following : 

'•'- The Cabinet and its political friends had one 
thought and one design fully established. They 
aspired to bring to a close in France the era of 
revolutions by founding a free government such as 
was promised to the nation in 1789, as the conse- 
quence and the political guarantee of the social 
revolution which was taking place. We regarded 
the policy which, with some vicissitudes, had ^vq- 
vailed in France since the ministry of Perier as the 
only efficacious and sure means of attaining this 
end. This policy was really at the same time lib- 
eral and anti-revolutionary. Anti-revolutionary 
without as well as within ; for in its external re- 
lations it strove for the maintenance of European 
peace, and in its internal policy for that of consti- 
tutional monarchy ; it was liberal, for it accepted 
and respected fully the essential conditions of free 
government, which are the decisive intervention of 
the country in its affairs, a constant and active dis- 
cussion among the people, as well as in the cham- 
l)ers, of the ideas and the acts of those in power. 
In fact, from 1830 to 1848 this double end was 
attained. Peace was preserved, and I think to-day, 
as I thought twenty years ago, that neither the in- 
fluence nor the power of France in Europe suffered 



268 DEMOCRACY AND MONARCHT IN FRANCE. 



from it. Within the nation, from 1830 to 1848, 
political liberty was broad and strong ; from 1840 
to 1848 especially, it was extended without having 
any ne^v legal limitations imposed upon it. If I 
were to express my thoughts without reserve, I 
should say that not only impartial spectators, but 
for the most part even the old enemies of our 
policy, would recognize to-day, in their inmost 
thoughts, the truth of this double fact. 

*' The policy which we thus sustained and put 
into practice had its principal support in the pre- 
ponderating influence of the middle classes : an 
iniiueace at once I'ecognized and accepted as labor- 
ing in the general interests of the country, and at 
the same time as subject to all the tests and condi- 
tions of general liberty. The middle classes, with- 
out either privileges or limits in the civil ranks, 
and constantly open in the political ranks to the 
ascending movement of the entire nation, were, in 
our opinion, the best guardians of the principles of 
1789, of social order as well as of constitutional 
government, of liberty as well as of order, of 
civil liberty as well as of political liberty, of prog- 
ress as well as of stability. 

" As the result of several general elections, the 
liberty and legality of which could not be seri- 
ously contested, and under the influence of ani- 
mated discussions incessantly repeated, the pre- 
ponderant influence of the middle classes had 
established, in the chambers and in the country, a 
majority which approved of the policy which I 



THE MINISTRY OF GJJIZOT. 269 

have just explained; a majority wliicli wished 
the maintenance of that policy, and which sup- 
ported it through all the difficulties and trials 
interior and exterior to which it was subjected. 
That majority was repeatedly renewed, recruited, 
compacted, exercised in a public way, and from 
day to day was bound more closely to the govern- 
ment, just as the government was bound more 
closely to it. In accordance with the natural 
course of a representative and free government, it 
had become the conservative pai'ty of that anti- 
revolutionary and liberal policy, the success of 
which, since 1831, it had wished for and assisted. 

" A parliamentary government, as a practical 
form of free government under a constitutional 
monarchy ; a preponderant influence of the middle 
classes, as the efficacious guarantee of constitu- 
tional monarchy and political liberty under this 
form of government ; a conservative party, as the 
natural representative of the influence of the mid- 
dle classes, and the necessary instrument of par- 
liamentary government; such were, in our pro- 
found conviction, the means of action and the con- 
ditions of duration of that liberal and anti-revolu- 
tionary policy which we had endeavored at heart 
to practise and to maintain. 

"It was this policy, as we understood it and 
practised it, in conjunction with the harmonious 
concurrence of the crown, the cliambers, and the 
electors, that the opposition desired to cliange ; 
and it was for the purpose of changing it that 



270 DEMOGRAGT AND MONARGHT IN FRANGE. 

lond calls were raised for electoi-al and parlia- 
mentary reforms. These reforms were less an 
end tlian a means ; their advocates, provoked by 
the interior condition of parliament much more 
than by any need or appeal of the country, saw 
plainly that there was but one way of accomplish- 
ing their design. They would be obliged, in the 
Chamber of Deputies, to reduce the majority 
which there prevailed, and the conservative party, 
which it had formed, in one of two methods : 
either they would have to expell from it, by an ex- 
tension of the law of incompatibilities, a part of the 
crown officers who held seats, or they would be 
compelled to call into it, by an extension of the 
right of suiffrage, elements that were new and of 
an unknown character. We had not, in princi- 
ple, any absolute and permanent objection to such 
reforms; the extension of the right of suifrage, 
and the incompatibility of certain public fimctions 
with the mission of deputy, could be and ought to 
be the natural and legitimate consequences of the 
ascending movement of society and of the pro- 
longed exercise of political liberty. But at pres- 
ent these innovations, in our opinion, were neither 
necessary nor opportune. They were not neces- 
sary, for, during the past thirty yeai's, events had 
proved that, under the actual laws and institu- 
tions, liberty and force had received the abundant 
intervention of the country in their behalf. They 
were not opportune, for they would impart new 
trials and new difficulties into that which was, in 



THE MimSTRT OF GTTIZOT. 271 

our eyes, the most actual and tlie most pressing 
interest of our country : namely, the exercise and 
the consolidation of that free government which 
was still so new among us. Such was at once the 
cause and the limit of our resistance to the im- 
mediate innovations which were demanded." ^' ( 
Such was the policy of Louis Philippe's govern- 
ment while under the direction of Guizot. I think 
that, even at the present day, it would be difficult 
to show how it could have been better. Of all 
things, what France most needed was rest from 
the disturbing influence of party strife and revo- 
lutionary e:fforts. Ever since 1793, the nation 
had been ruled by factions. It cannot be stated 
too often, or with too much emphasis, that the 
worst feature of French politics was its extreme 
radical character ; I mean that intensity and nar- 
rowness of party-feeling which shows itself con- 
stantly ready, not to correct, but to overthrow : 
not to modify, but to annihilate all opposing 
powers and opinions. The consequence of that 
intense radicalism had been, that ever after the 
revolution of '93, France had been ruled with 
what may, perhaps, best be called a spirit of des- 
peration ; — that desperation which comes from a 
consciousness, on the part of the faction in power, 
that defeat means overthrow, and that overthow 
means all manner of vengeance. The scourge of 
France has been the great number of men who 

* Guizot, Mcmoires, tome VIII, p. 531, et seq. 



272 I>EMOGBACT AND MONARCHY IN FRANCE. 

were ready to shout : " Vive la revolution^ — -a has 
le governrfient^^'^ whenever they have seen in their 
rulers anything they did not approve ; and, worst 
of all, such leaders have had in France, since the 
Revolution, no difficulty in finding a numerous 
constituency. The Revolution had brought into 
most conspicuous prominence the worst elements 
of society. Just as in the reign of Charles II. in 
England, 

' ' the scum 
That rises upmost when the nation boils," 

furnished abundant support for the ambition of 
the desperate and the aspiring. How often in 
France, in the reigns of Louis XVIII., Charles X., 
and Louis Philippe, occurred scenes like that por- 
trayed in Dryden's Spanish Friar : 

" Some popular chief, 
More noisy than the rest, but cries halloo, 
And in a trice the bellowing herd come out ; 
The^g-ates are barred, the ways are barricaded : 
And one and all's the word : true cocks o' the game ! 
They never ask for what or whom they fight ; 
But turn 'em out, and show 'em but a foe. 
Cry liberty, and that's a cause for quarrel." 

The ministry of Guizot saw clearly the evils of 
the revolutionary spirit that was still so prevalent, 
and it was iirm in the conviction that this spirit 
could only be overcome by means of a somewhat 
prolonged ascendency of the middle classes. It 
was the expectation that in due time the way 
would be opened for the safe introduction of a 
more popular element. Their mistake was not in 



THE MINISTRY OF GUIZOT. 273 

their theory, which was perfect, but, as in snch 
circumstances is often the case, in their too low esti- 
mation of the strength of their opponents, and 
their too high estimation of the political intelli- 
gence of the masses of the French people. As we 
shall see, those very elements which Guizot and 
his coadjutors strove to avoid or to override, 
proved in the end to be not only far worse, but 
also far stronger, than he had believed them to be. 
Instead, therefore, of winning, the government re- 
pelled its opponents; instead of crushing them, 
it exasperated them. There are blows which 
crush and destroy, and there are blows which 
compact and strengthen the object hammered : 
and blows which would destroy a small object 
often strengthen a large one. Guizot's govern- 
ment failed to apprehend correctly the magnitude 
and the character of its opponents, and therefore 
its policy had the opposite efect from that which 
had been so studiously and elaborately intended. 
Instead of persuading the opposition into a proper 
subordination to law, he aroused it to a revolution, 
a revolution, too, that, to his undoubted astonish- 
ment, was strong enough to sweep everything be- 
fore it. 

It is necessary to look a little more closely into 
the nature of the revolutionary element. When 
Guizot first took up the portfolio in 1840, affairs 
were not without their hopeful aspect. Conspira- 
cies and insurrections for the overtlu'ow of the 
monarchy of 1830 had become much less frequent 
11* 



274 I>EMOGBACT AND MONARCHY USf FRANCE. 

and mucli less formidable. An occasional attempt 
was made upon the life of the king, but aside from 
the perpetrators of such attempts and their few 
followers, the members of the opposition seemed 
disposed to transfer their contest entirely to the 
arena of parliamentary discussion. But the oppo- 
sition had not the advantage of that unity of pur- 
pose which characterized the policy of the govern- 
ment. There were those, on the one hand, who de- 
clared themselves loyally in favor of a dynastic 
monarchy; while on the other, there were those 
v/ho did not conceal their predilections for a re- 
public. Both of these parties had their followers 
and supporters among the people; and though 
they were violently opposed to each other, they 
were a unit in their opposition to the conservative 
policy of the cabinet. 

Then, too, each of these opposing parties was sub- 
divided. The monarchists counted in their ranks 
men who since 1830 had often approved and sus- 
tained, and even put into practice, a conservative 
policy similar to that now pursued. With them 
were also men who, under the ministries of Pcrier, 
Thiers, and Mole, had violently combated such a 
policy. The first — generally men of experience, 
with prudent and temperate characters — now re- 
proached the government with carrying its con- 
servative spirit too far, with not making conces- 
sions enough to the popular imagination, and with 
making too much to foreigners. The second class, 
though still ardently desirous of maintaining the 



THE MINISTRY OF GUIZOT. 275 

monarcliy of 1830, were profoundly imbued with 
the republican maxims and principles of 1791, and 
therefore they accused the government of having 
thwarted the E-e volution of 1830 in disappointing 
all hopes of a republican monarchy. Of these 
two parties the first was the most enlightened 
and the most skilful ; the second, the most power- 
ful and the most to be dreaded, inasmuch as its 
revolutionary instincts gave it a strong hold upon 
the sym]3athies of a considerable portion of the 
country. 

The republican opposition was of the same com- 
posite nature. It contained one class made up of 
men who denounced the follies and excesses of the 
demagogues as the crimes of the Great Eevolu- 
tion, and who took the United States as their 
model of a republican government. Marching 
wdth these was another class composed of republi- 
can fanatics, steadfast admirers of the republic of 
1793, men who found their model in the National 
Convention, and who persisted in worshipping the 
tyrants of that epoch as the saviors of Finance and 
the exemplars of all Frenchmen. Then, by the 
side of these two classes, there was another class 
consisting of visionary dreamers, audacious men 
who aspired not only to reform the government, 
but also to transform society itself. This motley 
crowd of socialists and communists, of which St. 
Simon, and Louis Blanc, and Victor Hugo, were 
tlie most conspicuous leaders, though its members 
were apparently all drawing in different directions. 



276 DEMOGBAGT AND MONARCHY IN FRANCE. 

professed to strive for tlie accomplishment of the 
same end, namely, the complete reorganization of 
society, civil and domestic as well as political. 
These men were the apostles of new theories on 
every possible subject. Some of their notions 
were monarchic, others were completely anarchic. 
But wide apart as the poles in many of their 
theories, in one respect they were in harmonious 
unity. Despairing of a realization of their pet 
notions under any fixed government, they were 
ever ready to join hands for the overthrow of 
what existed, and to rush headlong into the un- 
certain future in sole reliance on the hopes and the 
passions of the populace. They all desired a re- 
public and universal suffrage. 

Such were the diverse elements of the opposition. 
Had they from the first been united in their 
demands, there is little reason to doubt that they 
would have been strong enough to enforce I'espect. 
But the monarchists were so little in harmony with 
republicans, and the better class of both monar- 
chists and republicans found the doctrines of the 
socialists so repugnant, that it was long im])ossible 
for them to join their forces for the accomplish- 
ment of the same end. It was not until after 
years of isolated attacks and consequent failures, 
that their armies were joined for one simultaneous 
movement. 

We have already seen that the English Consti- 
tution had been the model after which the charters 
of 1814 and of 1830 had^ for the most part, 



THE MINISTEY OF GUIZOT. 277 

been framed. In two somewliat important partic- 
ulars, however, the French Constitution differed 
from that of their neighbors across the channeL 
In the first 23lace, the right of franchise was much 
more limited (a direct payment of an impost of 
three hundred francs being a necessary qualifica- 
tion of the voter) ; in the second place, crown 
officers were admitted to seats in the representative 
body in a manner that was in England deemed 
incompatible with the complete independence of 
legislation. These two modifications were not 
without their good effects, inasmuch as they gave 
to the government greater stability at a time 
when it was in danger of being paralyzed from the 
general prevalence of a revolutionary spirit. But 
to insist upon maintaining permanently these two 
peculiarities was to ignore some of the best fruits 
of the Revolution. Of this the government was 
fully aware. In theory it constantly professed 
a purpose to withdraw ultimately its own func- 
tionaries from the legislature, and to extend the 
right of suffrage ; but, as a matter of fact, when- 
ever the subject of immediate reform was advanced, 
it was opposed by the government on the ground 
that the time for such reform had not yet arrived. 
The question, then, between the government and 
the opposition was not whether a reform was de- 
sirable ; it was in regard to the time and manner 
of the reform. Such being the substantial unity of 
all parties on the main question at issue, it can 
hardly be considered strange that Guizot insisted 



278 DEMOGBAGY AND MONARGHT Hi FRANGE. 

upon acllieriiig to his own policy, on the subordi- 
nate question of time and manner, so long as he 
could carry a majority of parliament with him. 
When he should fail to command the majority he 
was I'eady, as he declared, to yield. 

But there ^vas one element of the problem that 
is liable to be overlooked. It was claimed, and 
with justice too, that the vote in the representa- 
tive body was not a free expression of the people, 
for the reason that the goveiiiment, being itself 
represented, was able to exert a powerful influence 
in its own behalf. But though it must be ad- 
mitted that there was ground for complaint, the 
importance of the fact was vastly magnified, for, 
as the government admitted the general desirability 
of reform, the opposition had only to bide its time 
in order to achieve a certain and a peaceful suc- 
cess. What, it may well be asked, is to be thought 
of a party or a policy that would precipitate a 
revolution for the sake of accomplishing at the 
present moment what is just on the point of 
coming about of its own inherent strength ? 

If any proof were wanting that Guizot was right 
in his belief that the nation would be unsafe in the 
hands of the opposition, such proof was afforded in 
tenfold measure by this willingness of the opposi- 
tion to proceed to measures of violence when they 
were still in a constitutional minoiity. That they 
Avere certain in the end to succeed, nay, that it 
was desirable they should succeed, the government 
itself was free to admit. That success could not 



THE MimSTBY OF GUIZOT. 279 

long be postponed, the history of their efforts and 
of the course of the government afford abundant 
proof. 

The subject of electoral reform first assumed con- 
siderable importance in 1840, during the short 
primacy of Thiers. In opening the debate which 
decided the existence of his cabinet, this minister 
expressed himself in the following tei'ms : 

^' On the subject of electoral reform great diffi- 
culties may arise in the future, but they do not 
present themselves to-day. Why ? Is there, among 
the adversaries of electoral reform, any one who, 
in the presence of the electoral body, in the pres- 
ence of chambers, and I might add in the presence 
of the charter, has said. Never ? The charter, and 
I had the honor to be j)resent at the conference 
when that article of the charter was discussed, — the 
charter excluded electoral qualifications from the 
articles which composed it. Why ? Because it 
was understood that the enlarging of the right of 
suffrage would be the work of time and of an 
increase of intelligence, when the populace, more 
enlightened, would be fitted to participate in the 
management of affairs of state. No one before the 
electoral body or before the chambers has said, 
Never. At the same time, even among the parti- 
sans of reform, has any one of the orators said, 
To-day? No one. All have recognized the fact 
that the question belongs to the future, and that it 
does not belong to the present." ''^ 

* Guizot, Memories^ vol. VIII. p. 530. 



2^0 DEMOGBAOT AND MOW AUGHT IJV FRANCE. 

The same general views were expressed by 
Remusat ; indeed, it may be said tliat tlie cabinet 
of Thiers as a Avhole recognized the necessity of 
reform, but remanded it to the future. 

When the ministry of Thiers gave way to that 
of Guizot, and entered into the opposition, the re- 
form party, thus reinforced, naturally became 
somewhat more urgent in its demands. Guizot 
remarks, with an evident touch of irony, that the 
ministry of Thiers had postponed the subject of 
reform to the future, and the future had speedily 
arrived. The question, therefore, was not allowed 
to rest. Between February of 1841 and April of 
1847 electoral reform was introduced into the 
chambers and discussed no less than three times, 
and parliamentary reform no less than seven times. 
The cabinet constantly repelled the movement, as 
inopportune and likely to jeopard the interest of 
the free government which they were endeavor- 
ing to establish. Twice the whole subject of 
electoral reform was reviewed at length by the 
prime minister. On the 15th of February, 1842, 
and again on the 26th of March, 1847, he expounded 
in elaborate speeches the whole policy of the gov- 
erment, and analyzed at length the social and 
political conditions of the country which deter- 
mined it. 

Meanwhile the two wings of the opposition, the 
monarchists and the republicans, remained firm, 
and their position was well known. The monarch- 
ist opposition attacked the general policy of the 



THE MimSTMT OF GUIZOT. 281 

cabinet in foreign affairs as well as in domestic, and 
advocated the two reforms as a p'oper means of 
correcting it. The republican opposition carried 
the question still farther ; it began in 1847 to ad- 
vocate universal suffrage as the only legitimate 
basis of the electoral laws. " It's day will come," 
said Garnier-Pages, with a kind of half-threat that 
predicted a republic, and, if need be, a revolution. 
In view of such liabilities the Chamber of Deputies 
rejected the proposition by a considerable majority. 
This fact should not be overlooked, inasmuch as the 
vote was taken just after the general elections of 
1846, and was, therefore, the most natural expres- 
sion of views on the question which the country in 
any constitutional method could give. It should, 
perhaps, still further be said that though the major- 
ity in support of the government was thus decisive, 
there continued to be a very general conviction that 
both the reforms would soon command a majority, 
and consequently that neither of them would be 
very long delayed. 

Now in any other nation than France, and at 
any other time than since the Great Revolution, 
what course would the advocates of reform have 
pursued ? Surely it required, but a small measure 
of patience and foresight to carry them, under the 
circumstances, to a triumphant and peaceful suc- 
cess. But patience and foresight found no place in 
the characters of many of the most influential party 
leaders. Perhaps it is doubtful whether many 
of them desired a peaceful success. Instead of 



282 BEMOGBAOY AND MONABGHY IN FRANCE. 

waiting simply, tlie republican leaders determined 
to transfer the struggle to a field where they would 
gain a support that was wanting in the chambers ; 
they resolved to summon to their aid a general agi- 
tation of the populace. The monarchic opposition 
was induced to imitate their example. With one • 
accord they determined to transfer the question 
from the arena of parliamentary discussion to the 
field of popular passions. The toasts of the ban- 
quets succeeded the debates of the tribune. 

It will be seen by every one who is familiar with 
the modern history of England, that the political 
situation in France during the last years of the 
reign of Louis Philippe resembled in many respects 
that which existed in England previous to the re- 
form of 1832. The government in France pro- 
fessed its willingness to pursue the same course that 
had been so successfully adopted in England. Dur- 
ing no less than fifty years, the subject of reform 
had been agitated in Great Britain before the 
House of Commons could be brought to commit it- 
self to the support of the measure. When at last the 
Commons were carried, however, the ministry gave 
way, and the new government pushed the subject 
of reform to a triumphant conclusion.'^' Just so 

* Nothing' will place in more vivid contrast the reformatory spirit of 
these two nations than to call to mind, in this connection, the condition 
of England previous to the reform of 1882. For this iDurpose I com- 
mend to the reader's notice the following passages from May's Consti- 
tional History of England^ American Edition, vol. I. p. 267: 

" In 1793 " (that is, thirty-nine years before the reform was actually 
brougiit about), ' ' the Society of the Friends of the People were prepared 



THE MINISTRY OF OUIZOT. 283 

it would have been in France. The leaders of the 
reform understood perfectly that the moment they 
were able to secure a majority in the Assembly, 
the government would give to the reformatory 
measures its hearty support. Moreover, it was evi- 
dent even to Guizot that the time was not distant 
when such a majority would be secured ; but until 
that time should come, the government did not be- 
lieve itself called upon to yield to the cries of an 
irresponsible proletariat. 

But the government little understood the full 
force of these revolutionary-lessons which the peo- 
ple of France, during fifty years and more, had been 
learning with so much earnestness and so much 
thoroughness. The revolutionaiy spirit, begot- 

to prove that in England and Wales seventy members were returned from 
thirty-five places in which there were scarcely any electors at all ; that 
ninety members were returned by forty-six places with less than fifty 
electors ; and thirty-seven members by nineteen places having not more 
than one hundred electors. Such places were returning members, 
while Leeds, Birmingham, and Manchester were unrepresented ; and the 
members whom they sent to Parliament were the nominees of peers 
and other wealthy patrons. No abuse was more flagrant than the di- 
rect control of peers over the constitution of the Lower House. The 
Duke of Norfolk was represented by eleven members ; Lord Lonsdale by 
nine •, Lord Darlington by seven ; the Duke of Rutland, the Marquis of 
Buckingham, and Lord Carrington, each hy six." 

Aschenholz (vol. V. p. 12) relates that "a borough that had been 
swallov/ed up by the sea still continued to be representetl ; the owner 
of the beach on which it had stood rowed out iu a boat with three vo- 
ters and there played out the electoral farce. " "At an election at Bute, 
only one person attended the election except the sheriff and the return- 
ing officer. Ho, of course, took the chair, constituted tho meeting, called 
over the roll of freeholders, answered to his own name, took the vote as 
to who should preside, and elected himself. He then moved and seconded 
Ms own nomination, put tho question to vote, and was unanimously re- 
turned." — Fischcl^ English Constitution, p. 439. 



284 DEMOGBACT AND MONARCHY IN FRANCE. 

ten by false doctrines in philosopliy and religion, 
nursed by violence and indiscretion, and encouraged 
by GOiiips dJetat without number, had grown to 
such proportions that it easily overcame its oppo- 
nents and swept everything before it. 

It is not difficult to see that mistakes were made 
by the ministry of Guizot, but they were mistakes 
of minor importance, and such that France could 
well have afforded to overlook them. That his 
general policy was the correct one, I think all the 
subsequent history of the nation has tended to 
show. But for the Revolution of 1848, a revolu- 
tion that, as I think we shall see, was brought 
abont without any adequate cause whatever on the 
part of the ministry, the government would doubt- 
less have conceded one reform after another, until 
a parliamentary regime worthy of comparison with 
that of England had been established. 

It may be said, furthermore, that by the ministry 
of Guizot much, very much, was actually accom- 
plished. Those who are in the habit of judging 
of an effort solely by the fact of its success or its 
failure, will not appreciate the importance of that 
work; but its importance, nevertheless, is certain, 
and ought to be recognized. The government of 
1830 was born of a revolution that was projected for 
the defence of the laws and the lil)erties of the peo- 
ple, and that was accomplished at the expense of ab- 
solute monarchy. The new regime was undertaken 
in the name of constitutional monarchy, and, as 



THE MimSTBT OF GUIZOT. 285 

Guizot declares, with these three principles as the 
basis of all its action : 

1. The rights of national independence. 

2. Respect for public laws, rights, and liberties. 

3. The principles and the practice of a constitu- 
tional regime. 

There was to be " no foreign intervention or in- 
terference in the interior affairs of France, and no 
laws of exception or of suspension of the public 
liberties." The constitutional powers were to be 
in full exercise, and to be always entitled to dis- 
cuss and to regulate the affairs of the country.''^' 

It is the proud, but, as it seems to me, the reason- 
able boast of Guizot, that these principles duiing 
his administration were faithfully applied and car- 
ried out. He shows by an overwhelming array of 
evidence that in all the branches of material and 
moral and political progress, the nation made gen- 
uine and rapid advances. He shows, furthermore, 
that the foreign policy of the government was such 
that Count Nesselrode, the Chancellor of Russia, 
wrote to the Russian ambassador at London, in 
February, 1848, that ''Hf peace continued^ France 
would surround herself on all sides by a rampart 
of constitutional states, organized on the French 
model, moved l)y the French spirit, and acting 
under French influence." And what could be 
higher praise than this ? 

At the conclusion of the final chapter of hi^ 
work, in which he gives a resume of the laws 

* Guizot, MimoircH^ vol. VIII. p. 597. 



286 I>EM0GBAG7 AND MONABGEY IN FRANCE. 

passed and tlie works accomplislied during his ad- 
ministration, Guizot makes a declaration wMch I 
believe no array of facts lias ever attempted to as- 
sail. He says : " Political order and civil order, 
moral order and material order, the rights of lib- 
erty and the rights of public security, the progress 
of prosperity and of well-being among all classes 
of the nation ; these, for the government of 1830, 
were the object of a constant occupation and of 
an hones fc and efficient effort. The government 
comprehended its mission, and sought its object, 
seriously, simply, without charlatanry and with- 
out fantasy ; and the good of its laboi's has sur- 
vived the misfortune of its fall. It had essential 
characteristics, and it attained from day to day the 
essential results of a legal and a free government." ^ 
To a statesman who can seriously and intelligently 
and honestly utter such words as these, it is no 
disgrace to be involved in failure. 

" 'Tis not in mortals to command success, — 
But lie did more, Sempronius, lie deserved it." 

The most temperate and judicial of English his- 
torians has well declared that ^' no envy of faction, 
no caprice of fortune, can tear from M. Guizot the 
trophy which time has bestowed, that he, for nearly 
eight years past and irrevocable, held in his firm 
grasp a power so fleeting before, and fell only with 
the monarchy which he had sustained, in the con- 
vulsive throes of his country." f 

* Memdres^ vol. VIII. p. 627. 
f Hallam, Preface to Supplemental Notes to View of the Middle Ages.^ 



THE REVOLUTION OP 1848. 



"Onep yap ot ra? eyx^^^i^ ^r]p(X)fX8voi TteTTOV^a?' 
Orav jLisv 7/ Xi^vrj uaraarfy Xapif^avov^iv ovdev 
'Eav d avGD re nai narco rov /3op/3opov hukc^o'iv^ 
Aipovai' Kal av \a^/3avei?y rjv rrjv itoXiv rapatrrj^. 
' — Aeistophanes, JEquites, v. 843-6. 






CHAPTER VII. 

THE EEVOLUTIOIT OF 1848. 

IN the last chapter I endeavored to portray the 
political condition of France during the admin- 
istration of Guizot. It was my effort to show how 
the policy of the government was firmly directed, 
on the one hand, to the work of establishing upon 
a solid basis a constitutional government similar to 
that of England, and on the other, to that of re- 
sisting and overcoming the revolutionary spirit 
which was so prevalent throughout the country. 
We have now to consider the failure of those ef- 
forts as displayed in the ensuing revolution. 

During the interval that passed between the 
session of 1847 and that of 1848, France was 
aroused to a somewhat feverisli excitement. It 
cannot be said that there was a general desire, 
much less a general demand, for I'eform. Since 
the reformatory agitations had begun, repeated el(!C- 
tions had taken place, and it may be affirmed with 
confidence, that if there had existed any such call 
for reform as would justify revolution, the advo- 
cates of reform would have been able to secure a 
majority. But such a majority had never been 
secured. It is a fact of infinite importance in the 
constitution of the question, that the legislative 

13 



290 DEMOCRACY AND MONARCHY IN FRANCE. 

brancli of tlie government was in complete har- 
mony witli tlie executive, and that tlie executive 
openly professed its willingness to abandon its 
position the moment the legislature should make 
the demand. In other words, it must be borne in 
mind that Guizot professed a readiness to follow 
in the footsteps of the English reform of 1832. 
It will be remembered that in England the 
government uniformly opposed the reformatory 
measures, until those measures were clearly de- 
manded by a majority of the people represented 
in the House of Commons, after which the gov- 
ernment favored the reform, and even urged it 
with all the powers of its patronage and preroga- 
tive. So it might have been in France but for 
that revolutionary spirit that would not wait for a 
majority. In England more than fifty years 
elapsed between the beginning and the end of the 
agitation which terminated in the reform of 1832. 
In France only eighteen years had passed since 
the people had fixed their form of government, 
and within that period important additions to the 
liberties and privileges of the people had taken 
place. Indeed, I am inclined to believe that if 
one were to search into the matter carefully, one 
would find that in the reign of Louis Philippe 
more was done to establish a healthy political sen- 
timent, and to extend to the people the largest 
liberties that could safely be entrusted to them, 
than has been done in any other eighteen years 
since the death of Henry IV. This may not be 



THE REVOLUTION OF 1848. 291 

\- 

very liigli praise, but the fact should not be over- 
looked or forgotten. It takes the responsibility 
of the revolution from the government and throws 
it upon the people. 

But it may be asked : Why, then, did the revo- 
lution occur ? The answer is to be found in the 
nature of the political parties and in the char- 
acter of the political sentiments pervading the 
people. 

France may be said to have been divided at 
this time into four classes, four parties, or perhaps 
it might be said, into four political castes. 

The first of these embraced the old aristocracy 
and their adherents. They were the absolutists 
the men who had supported Charles X., and been 
with him overthrown by the Revolution of 1830. 
The second class was the great middle class of 
professional men, of tradesmen, of artisans — the 
bourgeoisie, who came into political power at the 
time of the Restoration, and again at the accession 
of Louis Philippe. The third class was made up 
of the small land-owners and laborers — the great 
mass of the laboring population. Now these three 
classes were all monarchists. The first class w^as 
devoted to the elder branch of the Bourbon family, 
the second class to the Orleans dynasty as repre- 
sented by Louis Philippe, and the third class to the 
Bonapartes. But in addition to these three classes 
there was a fourth class, that was now growing u]) 
into an imwonted importance. It was made up of 
the heirs of all those strancre doctrines which had 



292 I>EMOGBAGT AND MONARCHY IN FRANCE. 

come down from tlie Great Revolution, of those 
men whose mission it seems to be to stir up dis- 
content, of those revolution aiy natures whose ten- 
dency is to condemn whatever is^ and to praise 
and long for whatever is not. Now every nation 
has this class of people ; every nation has at times 
experienced the benefits, and at times the evils, of 
the agitations which such people originate and en- 
courage. Every nature must have in itself a cer- 
tain amount of destructive energy, or it can make 
no headway in society. So every nation must 
have those who can spy out and attack the evils 
of social and political life. But when a man's de. 
structive energy overbalances his creative or pro- 
ductive energy, society protects itself from his de- 
predations only by means of its jails and peniten- 
tiaries. In like manner it may be said of any so- 
ciety, that whenever the destructive, that is to say, 
the revolutionary spirit, rises within it to an undue 
prominence, it is in danger just in j)roportion to 
the extent of that prominence. The right of revo- 
lution is, without doubt, a sacred right; and yet 
the nation which glorifies revolution, or even 
makes revolution easy, is on the high-road to ruin. 
For what is revolution ? Is it anything more or 
less than the substitution of force in the place of 
law? That such a substitution is sometimes justi- 
fiable, there may be no question ; that it is often 
justifiable, cannot for a moment be admitted. It 
may be stated, as a general and universal truth, 
that it can never be resorted to with impunity 



THE REVOLUTION OF 1848, 293 

when there is left open aiij possible constitutional 
means of accoiU'f lishliig the end to be attained. 

Now this revolutionary s^Dirit of which I have 
spoken, and which I believe is at all times to be 
deprecated, had taken possession of a considerable 
portion of the French people. That the masses 
of the people were revolutionary is not true ; in- 
deed, the majority of the French people at the 
time of which I am speaking were decidedly anti- 
revolutionary in their predisposition. This very 
fact, moreover, paradoxical as it may seem, con- 
tributed to the success of the revolutionary party ; 
and for the reason that with vast numbers of the 
people it degenerated into a laissez-faire policy 
that was equally averse to revolution and to the 
resistance of revolution. It has been said that 
where there is no passion there is no virtue ; with 
equal truth it might be affirmed that where there 
is a general spirit of non-resistance there is room 
and opportunity for every kind of lawlessness and 
revolution. Now the masses of the rural popula- 
tion of France have, ever since the Great Eevolu- 
tion, been essentially conservative. They have 
taken very little interest in political affairs. Tliey 
have said in effect, " Give us a Bonaparte, give us 
a Bourbon, give us an Orleanist, give us a republic, 
give us anything you please, but in the name of 
Heaven give us something that is fixed. We don't 
understand your politics; we don't care who is 
I'uler ; what we want is, to have our taxes light, 
and above all, to be assured that our homes and 



jQl P^^OCRACY AND MONARCHY IN FRANCE 

our cMldren and o'^Zj^^ ^^I'^s ma}^ rest in our 
quiet possession." Thus ar'JOiig all +]:^ ,1^:5^33 ^f 
Europe there is no people that has afforded so 
good a field for the work of political sharpers and 
political tricksters as the people of France dur- 
ing the last fifty years. In gross ignorance, and 
yet with instincts mainly correct, they have 
plodded on, leaving the affairs of politics to the 
jDeople of Paris and of the other large cities. 

The result of this condition of aifairs has been 
to give the control of French politics almost ex- 
clusively into the hands of the Parisians. And 
now what was likely to be the influence of this 
result ? How is any nation likely to be governed 
if it intrusts its political aifairs to a great metro- 
politan city ? Imagine all England surrendering 
herself to the unlimited control of London. Im- 
agine, if possible, the United States withdrawing 
from all interest in political affairs, and saying to 
New York City, " Govern us as you please ; we 
do not care to interfere." 

Now Paris not only had its full quota of the 
ignorant and brutalized, but it had far more than 
its proportion of those revolutionary spirits to 
whom I have referred. The doctrines of Voltaire 
and Rousseau had taken deep hold of the Pari- 
sians, and had left upon them a permanent influ- 
ence. These doctrines, as we have seen, were thor- 
oughly revolutionary in their nature, and their influ- 
ence permeated all the most popular writings of the 
day. In 1850, De Tocqueville used these words : 



THE REVOLUTION OF 1848. 295 

^' If I were to give a Scriptural genealogy of our 
modern popular writers, I should say tliat Rous- 
seau lived twenty years, and tlien begat Ber- 
nardin de St. Pierre ; tliat Bernardin de St. 
Pierre lived twenty years, and then begat 
Cliateaubriand ; that Chateaubriand lived twenty 
years, and then begat Victor Hugo ; and that 
Victor Hugo, being tempted of the devil, is 
begetting every day." * It would not be correct 
to affirm that the spirit of these men permeated 
all the writings of the day ; and yet the literature 
which influenced the people in any considerable 
measure was filled with ideas and sentiments 
which were inherited from the writers of the rev- 
olutionary period. There was everywhere preva- 
lent that scoffing spirit whose influence in politics 
is to revolutionize, rather than reform, that chronic 
fault-finding disposition which seems to have no 
definite aim, but which tends to weaken and de- 
stroy, without the possibility of putting anything 
better in the place of that which it would over- 
throw. It was in this revolutionary spirit that 
socialism and communism, now for the first time 
looming up into importance, had their o:".igin and 
their support. It was in this same revolutionary 
spirit that the laws and restraints of mariiage 
were attacked and ridiculed, that marriage witli- 
out love, and love without marriage, against Av^hich 
Pore Hyacinthe so eloquently protested as the 

* De Tocqueville, Memoirs and Remains^ vol. II. p. IIG. 



296 DEMOGRAOY AND MONARCHY IN FRANCE. 

greatest bane of Frencli society, came to be so 
general — it might be said, so nearly universal. 

When all these conditions of France and of 
Paris are considered, the revolution of 1848 is 
easily explained. The possibility of revolution 
lay in the two facts that the masses of the French 
people were too apathetic to resist revolution, and 
that Paris was pervaded with a revolutionary 
spirit that was strong enough, when once provoked, 
to sweep everything before it. 

Now let us look at the facts which precipitated 
the event. 

"When the revolutionary spirits of Paris found 
that it was impossible to secure a majority in the 
Assembly, they betook themselves to a systematic 
agitation of the subject by means of a series of 
banquets to be given in the avowed interests of 
reform. These were to be held in all the larger 
cities of the kingdom, and the toasts were designed 
to arouse and influence the revolutionary spirit. 
By means of these banquets, France, during the 
six months that followed the closing of the session 
of 1847, was kept in a fever of excitement. In 
nearly all the departments, in quite all the cities 
of importance, banquets were held by the oppo- 
nents of the government, monai'chist as well as re 
publican, for the avowed purpose of creating and 
exciting public opinion. The greatest confusion 
was the result. In some instances it was agreed 
between royalists and republicans that the king 
and his adherents should be passed in complete 



THE REVOLUTION OF 1848. 297 

silence ; in otliers tlie monarchists insisted on a 
toast in honor of the king, and when the repub- 
lican opposition refused it, the former withdrew 
to drink their toast by themselves. As time ad- 
vanced, the revolutionary fires flamed up with un- 
mistakable vigor. In several of the cities the 
remembrances of the Convention were called up 
only to be applauded, and the names of the most 
tyrannical and sanguinary chiefs, Danton, Robes- 
pierre, and Saint Just, were mentioned with un- 
concealed admiration. 

At the first of the banquets the monarchists 
and the republicans were mutually suspicious and 
shy of each other. The radical chiefs among the 
republicans attributed their failures to their asso- 
ciation with the monarchists, and the monarchist 
chiefs attributed theii* failure to their association 
with the republicans; many, therefore, refused to 
take part in the banquets so long as this associa- 
tion continued. But as time advanced, and the 
flames of public passion rose higher and higher, 
it became evident that the fruits of the movement 
were to be reaped by that branch of the opposi- 
tion which should succeed in winning over the 
other. The radical chiefs, therefore, soon returned 
to the leadership of their respective parties. 
From this consolidation of forces the question was 
simply as to which one of the two oppositions 
would become the instrument and the dupe of the 
other. But the question was not long unsettled. 
Terms were agreed upon by the two parties, the 

13* 



298 Jy^MOCBAGY AND MONARCHY IN FRANCE. 



monarcliists virtually surrendering to their oppo- 
nents. In commenting upon this act of diplomacy, 
Garnier-Pages relates the following anecdote, 
which at least shows that the importance of the 
event was appreciated by the republican leaders : 

" On leaving the residence of Mr. Odilon Bar- 
rot, the radical members of the meeting walked 
for some distance together. Arriving on the 
boulevard opposite the residence of the Minister 
of Foreign xYffairs, they were on the point of sep- 
arating. ^Ma foi,' said M. Pagnerre, 'I had no 
hope that our propositions would have a success 
so prompt and so complete. Did those men see 
where the affair would carry them? For my 
part, I confess that I don't see clearly ; but it is 
not for us radicals to be frightened.' ^ You see 
this tree ? ' responded Garnier-Pages ; ' well, cut 
in its bark a souvenir of this day. What we have 
just decided is a revolution.' " ^' 

It now for the first time became evident to the 
government that the clanger was serious. The 
journals, delighted to find the contest transported 
into the passions of the people, sustained and 
fomented the banquets and encouraged the agita- 
tion. So long as the opposition had remained 
divided the cabinet had entertained no special 
apprehension ; but now that its ranks were closed, 
there could be no mistaking the fact that it was in 
every sense formidable and dangerous. 

Guizot saw the situation, and had a long confer- 

* Gamier-Pages, Hist, de la Rev. de 1848, vol. IV. p. 102. 



THE REVOLUTIOW OF 1848. 299 

ence with tlie king. It was tlie opinion of the 
minister that the cabinet should retire, and that 
the whole question should be submitted anew to 
the ch ambers. ■^^' But to this the king was op- 
posed. When it was urged that a change could 
now be made as a matter of prudence, but that in 
the future it might be a matter of necessity, the 
king responded : " That is precisely my reason 
for keeping you now. You know well that I am 
perfectly resolved not to depart from the constitu- 
tional Tegime^ and to accept its necessities and its 
annoyances ; but to-day it is not at all a matter of 
constitutional necessity. You have always had 
the majority; to whom should I yield in changing 
my ministers to-day % It w^ould not be to the 
chambers, nor to the clear and regularly expressed 
views of the country ; ifc would be to manifesta- 
tions without any other authority than the tastes 
of those causing them — to a noise at the bottom 
of which there w^as nothing but evil designs. No, 
my dear minister ; if the constitutional regime 
makes it necessary that I should separate myself 
from you, I will obey my constitutional duty, but 
I will not make the sacrifice in advance for the 
accommodation of ideas which I do not approve. 
Remain with me, and defend to the last the policy 
which we both believe to be good. If we are 
obliged to part, let those who make the separation 
necessary have the responsil)ility." f 

♦ Guizot's Mcmoires, vol. VIII. p. 543. f Ihkl^ p. 545. 



300 DEMOCBACY AND MONARCHY IN FRANCE. 

" I do not hesitate, sire," responded Guizot. 
" I believed it my duty to call the attention of the 
king to the gravity of the situation. The cabinet 
would like a thousand times better to retire than 
to compromise the king, but it v^dll not desert 
him." 

Such Y/as the situation at the opening of the 
session of 1848. The policy of the king and his 
cabinet was elaborated in a carefully prepared 
address of the throne. That policy was clearly 
summed up in these words : 

" In the midst of those agitations which have 
excited hostile and blind passions, one conviction 
has animated and sustained me ; it is that we pos- 
sess in our constitutional monarchy, in the union 
of the great j^owers of state, the sure means of 
surmounting all obstacles, and of satisfying all the 
moral and material interests of our dear country. 
If we maintain firmly, according to the charter, 
social order and all its conditions ; if we guarantee 
faithfully, according to the charter, public liberties 
and all their developments, we shall transmit in- 
tact to the generations which are to come after us 
the legacy which has been confided to us, and they 
will bless us for having founded and defended the 
edifice under the shelter of which they will live 
haj)py and free." ^' 

These were noble words ; the only pity is that 
the condition of the nation did not really justify 
them. Guizot in his Mhnoires has a passage in 

* Guizot, Memoires^ vol. VIII. p. 545. 



THE REVOLUTION OF 1848. 301 

reference to the hopeful spirit of the cabinet, in 
which he sadly confesses the manner in Avhich 
they were all deceived. The paragraph throws a 
flood of light upon all the transactions of the pe- 
riod ; it furnishes the key-note, not only of the his- 
tory of the Eevolution of 1848, but also of the 
whole modern history of Prance. While it ex- 
plains the policy of the cabinet, it reveals the 
cause of all the painful misfortunes of the country. 
In referring to the words of the king just quoted, 
he says : 

" I cannot recall these too confident words 
without an emotion of profound sorrow. My con- 
fidence was in fact great, although my apprehen- 
sions were real. Our error was common to all 
men who, in the ranks of the opposition and in 
our own, wished sincerely for the maintenance of 
the free government, into the possession of which 
the country was just entering. We had too early 
and too confidently counted upon that good sense 
and that political foresight which can become 
general only after the long exercise of liberty ; 
we believed the constitutional regime stronger 
than it really was ; we expected too much from its 
different elements, royalty, the chambers, parties, 
the middle class, the people ; we did not suffi- 
ciently guard against their character and their in- 
experience. It is with nations as with individuals : 
the lessons of a vigorous life are slower and dearer 
than the presumptuous hopes of youth imagine." ''^ 

* Mcmoires, vol. VIII. p. 545. 



302 DEMOCRACY AND MOITAliCHY UT FRANCE. 

Over tlie address of tlie cliambers to the crown, 
in response to tlie royal message, there occurred a 
protracted and earnest debate. The whole ques- 
tion was again raised by the introduction of an 
amendment calling for immediate reform. 

In the course of the discussion, the government 
was invited to explain its policy. In a speech of 
considerable length, Guizot traversed the whole 
question, explaining the grounds of his course. 
He declared that he had no permanent hostility 
to the reforms proposed, but that he now consid- 
ered the time for them inopportune ; that he be- 
lieved it improper for a conservative cabinet to 
concede them so long as the conservative party 
opposed them ; that he was resolved to abandon 
his position as soon as the least majority in the 
chambers should show itself in favor of conces- 
sion ; that he was not willing to become the in- 
strument of the defeat and disorganization of the 
majority of so long standing while it still per- 
sisted in the general policy which they had to- 
gether maintained ; that in the existing state of 
aifairs, the fortunes of this policy depended upon 
the fortunes of that party which had pledged to 
it its faith and its force; that fidelity to ideas and 
to friends is (me of the vital conditions of free 
government ; that when ideas and alliances change, 
persons also must change with them ; that after 
what had lately occurred in the country, and in 
the presence of what was passing in Europe, any 
innovation of the kind indicated, an innovation 



THE REVOLUTION OF 1848. 3Q3 

wliicli would necessitate a dissolution of the cham- 
ber, would be both a weakness and an impru- 
dence ; that the ministry would be utterly want- 
ing in its duty, should it take upon itself such a 
responsibility against the voice of the majority; 
that it was also unwise to make any engagement 
for the future, inasmuch as in such matters, to 
promise is more than to do (for in promising one 
destroys that which exists without putting any- 
thing in its place) ; that a wise government often 
can, and ought to, favor reform, but that such a 
government does not promise reform in advance ; 
that when the proper moment, in its estimation, 
comes, it acts; but that until then it remams 
silent ; that in England, many of the greatest 
reforms have been brought about by the very 
men who have combated them up to the moment 
when they believed they ought to be accom- 
plished; and, finally, that the government, in 
adopting its conclusions, had taken into full ac- 
count the spirit of the country and the necessity 
of a careful investigation of all the questions pro- 
posed. The last words of this address, so full of 
political wisdom, were as follows : 

" The maintenance of the unity of the conserva- 
tive party, the maintenance of the conservative 
policy and of its power, such will be tlie cabinet's 
fixed idea and its rule of conduct. The cabinet re- 
gards the unity of the force of the conservative 
party as the guarantee of all that which is dear 
and important to the country. It will make sin- 



304 DEMOGBAGY AND MONARGHT IN FBANGE. 

cere efforts to maintain, to re-establish, if you 
please, the unity of the conservative party, in 
order that it may continue to be the conservative 
party entire vrhich adopts and gives to the coun- 
try the solution of these questions. If such a 
transaction in this party is possible, — if the ef- 
forts of the cabinet in this matter gom^ in the nature 
of things^ succeed^ — the transaction will take place. 
If this is not possible, if, on these questions, the 
conservative party cannot bring itself into harmo- 
nious agreement and maintain the force of the con- 
servative policy, then the cabinet will leave to 
others the sad task of presiding over the disorgani- 
zation of the party and the ruin of its policy. 
Such will be our rule of conduct. I oppose the 
amendment." ^ 

Consistent to the last ! Believing, with all the 
firmness of a deep-seated conviction reinforced by 
observation and experience, " that the prosperity of 
the country could only come from the continuance 
of that policy which kept the reins of power out 
of the hands of such fanatics as had long been and 
still are to a great extent the curse of the French 
nation, Guizot was determined by all proper 
means to endeavor to keep the conservative party 
together, and to keep it in power. Time has re- 
vealed how completely he was right in his judg- 
ment concerning the demands of the nation. His 
mistake was that of over-estimating the strength of 

* Guizot, Memoir es^ vol. VIII. p. 549. 



THE REVOLUTION OF 1848. 305 

the elements of order and stability, and of under- 
estimating the strength of the elements of discord, 
of turbulence, and of anarchy. 

It is of the greatest importance to notice the 
fact that the chambers approved of the policy, 
and showed faith in Guizot's speech. The amend- 
ment was rejected by a majority of 222 to 189, 
and an address was voted in accordance wdth the 
conservative policy. Thus again the government 
by methods of unquestionable legitimacy had been 
able to secure the support of the chambers. 

The banquets held after the session of 1848 had 
manifestly failed to accomplish their purpose. 
All their efforts had been unable to create a ma- 
jority in opposition to the government, and. it 
would seem that now there was nothino^ left but 
for them to relapse into proper submission until 
they might again renew the issue at the next elec- 
tion. But submission was no part of their pur- 
pose. It was now determined to hold a monster 
banquet at Paris for the purpose of appealing di- 
I'ectly to the passions of the populace. 

It was evident that every just consideration de- 
manded that the banquet should not be held. In 
the first place, the question for the discussion of 
which the banquet was about to take place had 
just been decided in the only constitutional 
method that was possible. It had been fairly sub- 
mitted to an Assembly which had been elected af- 
ter the reformatory agitation had beguu, and that, 
too, when everybody understood that the govern- 



306 DEMOCRACY AND MONARCHY IN FRANCE. 

ment would yield the very moment the reformers 
should secure a majority of the members. If the 
banquet had been held before the vote in the As- 
sembly had been taken, it might at least have had 
the excuse of hoping to influence the decision ; but 
now, after the decision had been announced, there 
was nothing to be gained, or even hoped for, short 
of a revolution. Moreover, in the second place, it 
was known to everybody that the reform move- 
ment had a powerful hold upon the jDopulace of 
Paris; a hold so powerful, indeed, that, in case 
the populace should be aroused, it might be able 
to overwhelm any military force that the govern- 
ment might have on hand to resist it. These con- 
siderations induced the government to endeavor to 
persuade the leaders of the movement to give up 
the banquet ; but if that were impossible, to sup- 
press it by force. 

But the question at once arose as to the right of 
the government to interfere. Whether it had a 
moral right or not depended, of course, uj)on the 
extent of the danger involved. The right of self- 
preservation inheres in governments as well as in 
individuals, and consequently if the danger was of 
a nature to threaten seriously the peace of the na- 
tion, it was not only the right but the duty of the 
executive to avert it. That such danger existed 
the government had no doubt, and subsequent 
events showed that the apprehensions of the king 
and his cabinet were well founded. But all the 
commissioners appointed to arrange for the ban- 



THE REVOLUTION OF 1848. 307 

qxiet denied tlie existence of danger to tlie govern- 
ment. An issue was thus at once created, one 
party maintaining that the general considerations 
of public safety demanded that the banquet should 
be suppressed, the other holding that the govern- 
had no right to suppress it, if for no other reason, 
because no possible danger was threatened. But, 
argued the government, we have, in the course we 
propose to take, the unquestionable authority and 
sanction of law. Duch4tel, the Minister of the In- 
terior, recalled the laws of 1790 and of 1791, as 
well as those of the year VIII. and of the year 
IX., which regulated the powers of the prefect of 
police and sanctioned the habit of the government. 
Even after the Revolution of 1830, laws of a sim- 
ilar nature had been passed. In 1831, in 1833, and 
1835, and 1840, under the cabinets of Perier, of De 
Broglie, and of Thiers, as well as under that of 
Guizot, similar legislation had taken place. 

The opposition now took a new tack. It main- 
tained, that since the Revolution of 1830 the right 
of meeting for political discussion was a public 
right superior to all legislation ; that the abuse of 
it might indeed be punished like the abuse of any 
other right, but that it could never, in any case, be 
the object of a preventive measure. In other 
words, all legislation giving to the police a right 
to interfere for the prevention of pul)lic gatherings 
of any kind was contrary to the spirit of the char- 
ter, was unconstitutional. To this the government 
replied : " Very well ; we have no desire to violate 



308 DEMOCRACY AND MONABGHT IN FRANCE. 

the constitution; the question has never been 
tested. We will make up a case for submission to 
the Supreme Court, which shall decide whether the 
government has or has not the constitutional right 
to interfere for the suppression of the banquet." 

To this reasonable proposition the opposition 
leaders could not but agree. Accordingly a for- 
mal contract was entered into by a few representa- 
tive men of each party for the purpose of bringing 
about such a decisiou. It was understood that 
the government was pledged, on the one hand, to 
act in accordance with the decision of the court, 
and that the opposition, on the other hand, was to 
postpone the banquet until the decision should be 
announced. Thus the matter seemed, for a mo- 
ment, to be in the way of a settlement in a consti- 
tutional manner. Guizot declares that the king 
was delighted with the prospect of a constitutional 
solution of the question, and that the friends of 
the government were all hopeful that the crisis 
would have a tranquil issue. 

But the mutual felicitations of the party lead- 
ers were soon interrupted. It became at once ap- 
parent that the great mass of the opposition in Paris 
would submit to no such legal and tranquil solu- 
tion of the question. It was sadly evident that 
the more moderate members of the opposition had 
lost all control of the populace, and that since the 
union of the monarchist and republican factions, 
or rather since the surrender of the monarchist to 
the I'epublican faction, nothing short of an out- 



THE REVOLUTION OF 1848. 399 

and-out revolutionary movement would satisfy tlie 
popular demand. Accordingly, within a few hours 
after the conclusion of the agreement above re- 
ferred to, the government learned that the contract 
would be repudiated. 

The commissioners in charge of the preliminary 
arrangements for the banquet had issued a formal 
invitation to the opposition members of the Leg- 
islative Assembly. On the morning of the 21st 
of February, the very day after the pacific agree- 
ment had been made^ three of the more intense 
republican papers of Paris, the National^ the JRe- 
forme^ and the Democratie Pacifique^ published 
the following letter as their reply : 

" To the President and Commissioners of the 

Banquet : 

" Gentlemeist : — We have received the invita- 
tion, with which you have honored us, to the ban- 
quet of the 12 th arrondissement of Paris. 

"The right of meeting for political discussion 
without previous authorization having been denied 
by the ministry in the discussion on the address, 
we see in this banquet a means of maintaining a 
constitutional right against the pretensions of ar- 
bitrary power, and of giving to this I'ight a defi- 
nite consecration. 

" For this reason we regard it as an imperious 
duty to join in the legal and pacific manifestation 
which you are preparing, and to accept of your 
invitation." 



310 DEMOGBAOT AND MONARCHY IN FRANCE. 

This letter of acceptance was signed by ninety- 
two deputies of the opposition. 

Now it may well be asked, What was the ob- 
ject of these deputies? The language of the 
letter cannot be mistaken. It was by no means 
for the purpose of any reformatory measures which 
they hoped to inaugurate ; it was apparently for 
the purpose of defying the government, and 
that, too, in regard to a measure which the govern- 
ment had already engaged to submit to the court 
for legal decision. This was made all the more 
evident from the announcements. The same jour- 
nals which published the letter of the deputies 
published also the programme as made out by 
the Commission. This document displays upon its 
very face the intention of its authors to arouse 
the people of the city. It boastfully refers to the 
numbers and rank of those who have signified 
their intention to be present for the purpose of 
protesting in the name of law against an illegal 
and arbitrary pretension. Its authors then make 
a significant appeal to the National Guard. They 
presume that the guard will be faithful to their 
motto, which is " Liberty and PidMo Order^'' and 
in the defence of liberty array themselves with 
the manifestation. They accordingly call upon 
the guard to arrange themselves in front of the 
Madeleine in two lines, between which the invited 
guests were to be stationed. 

From these provisions, and from the terms of 
the proclamation of the Commission, it was evi- 



THE REVOLUTION OF 1848. 311 

dent that the National Guard was counted upon 
as being in general sympathy with the movement. 
It was also apparent that the purpose was not so 
much after all to create public opinion at the ban- 
quet, as to excite and arouse public opinion which 
already existed. The proclamation removed the 
last possibility of misunderstanding the nature of 
the demonstration. It was simply a formidable 
and dangerous defiance of the government in re- 
gard to a question which the cabinet had agreed 
to submit to the decision of the courts. Under 
such circumstances, no government could have 
been deceived in regard to its duty. The situa- 
tion was one of peril, not only to public order, but 
also to constitutional government itself. 

The French cabinet did not hesitate an instant. 
M. Duchatel, Minister of the Interior, informed 
on the evening of the 20th of February of the 
proclamation that was to appear on the following 
morning, conferred at once with the committee that 
had agreed to submit the question to the courts. 
It became instantly apparent that the power which 
for six months had been gradually slipping from 
the hands of the more moderate members of che 
opposition had now completely escaped, and had 
taken refuge in the camp of the extreme republi- 
cans. The royalist opposition had completely 
lost its independence, and was simply dragged on 
in the train of the revolutionary leaders. There 
was evidently no dependence to be placed upon 
the contract, and the government did not liesitate 



312 DEMOGBAGY AND MONABGHY IN FEANGE. 

to act accordingly. It would have been weak, 
not to say pusillanimous, to liave done otherwise. 
The prefect of the police, acting under immediate 
instruction from the cabinet, interdicted the ban- 
quet. At the same time the commander-in-chief 
of the military forces reminded the National 
Guard of the laws which prevented their assem- 
bling without the command of their officers and 
the requisition of the civil authorities. 

As a further precaution, the Prefect of Police 
published a proclamation to the inhabitants of 
Paris. After reminding the people of the dis- 
quietude that prevailed, and the desire of the 
government to have the question in dispute sub- 
jected to a judicial and constitutional decision, 
the Prefect continued in these words : 

^' The government persists in this desire, but the 
manifesto published to-day by the opposition jour- 
nals announces another end as well as other inten- 
tions ; it institutes another government by the side 
of the true government of the country, that which 
was founded by the charter and is supported by a 
majority in the chambers ; it calls for a public mani- 
festation dangerous to the repose of the city ; it 
convokes, in violation of the law of the 2 2d of 
March, 1831, the National Guard, and in advance 
posts them in military order with their officers 
at their head. There is no lonorer anv reason to 
believe in the good faith of the contract ; laws the 
most plain and the most firmly established are 
violated. The government will cause the laws to 



THE REVOLUTION OF 1848. 313 

be respected, for they are the foundation and 
the guarantee of public order. 

'' I invite all good citizens to conform to these 
laws, and not to join in any public concourse, lest 
they give occasion for troubles to be regretted. In 
the name of our institutions, in the name of public 
repose and the dearest interests of the city, I make 
this appeal to their patriotism and their reason." '^' 

The ejEect of this proclamation was instantly 
manifest. The moderate adherents of the move- 
ment generally abandoned it, and the opposition 
seemed to be in a crisis of disorganization. 

The government was everywhere vigilant. On 
the evening of the 21st, after the prohibition of the 
banquet had been published, the Minister of the 
Interior ordered the arrest of twenty -four of the 
revolutionary leaders. 

The warrants for twenty-two had been made 
out when news arrived at the head-quarters of the 
minister, that the banquet had been abandoned. 
As if to leave no possible uncertainty in the minds 
of the ministry, this intelligence was brought by 
no less a personage that M. Boissel, the president 
of the Commission. It appeared that after a long 
and- fiery debate an abandonment had iinally been 
determined upon, and that M. Boissel had come 
with the decision to the cabinet. All lovers of 
good order, of course, were jubilant. 

But once more it became speedily apparent that 
their rejoicings were premature. It was soon re- 

* Guizot, Mcmoires, vol. VIII. p. 5G8. 
14 



314 DEMOGBAGT AND MONARCHY IN FRANCE. 

vealed that no action of tlie Commission would 
bind the populace of Paris. Just as it had hap- 
pened when the leaders of both parties had agreed 
to submit the question to the decision of the court, 
so now, the mob refused to be constrained or di- 
rected by their leaders. The most fiery spirts de- 
clared that they would not submit to the decision, 
and that, if they could not have the banquet, they 
would at least indulge in a demonstration, — in a 
demonstration, too, which should be all the more 
decisive. Thus while the government had in 
reality gained a triumph, the attitude of the most 
active revolutionists w^as such as to rob that 
triumph of its legitimate results. Nay, it was such 
as to convert the triumph into a real disaster ; for, 
on the one hand, it threw the government off its 
guard ; and on the other, it transferred the control 
of the demonstration from the hands of the more 
moderate to the hands of the most fiery I'evolu- 
tionists. Thus the situation was even more dan- 
gerous than it had been before. The government 
¥/as congratulating itself that the crisis was past, 
when, as a matter of fact, the control of the vast 
rabble of Paris had passed to conspirators and 
fanatic revolutionists, Avho had no scruples in seiz- 
ing upon any and every means of accomplishing 
their mad designs.''^* 

But it may well be asked : If the government 
enjoyed the hearty support of a majority of the 
legislative assembly, why was it not able to sup- 

* De La Hodde, History of the Secret Societies of France^ p. 405. 



^.. 



THE REVOLUTION OF 1848. 3x5 

press the insuiTection and prevent disturbance? 
If the rebellion was confined to the fanatics and the 
rabble of Paris, why conld not the government put 
it down ? Why, with the fair warning which it 
had, was it not able to preserve the peace of the 
city ? 

In answer it may be said, that however superior 
in force a government may be to those who would 
defy its power, some amount at least of judgment 
and discretion is necessary in order to ensure its 
success. I think it will be easy to show that in its 
attempts to get control of the Revolution, the gov- 
ernment was wanting even in the very rudiments 
of political wisdom. It requires but the briefest 
outline of well-known facts to show that nothing 
could have been weaker than the course which was 
pursued. Twice it occurred that when the gov- 
ernment had got the insurgents well in hand, it 
relaxed its grasp, and threw av^ay all that it had 
gained. Let us look for a moment at some of the 
facts of the case. 

As soon as the cabinet had received assurance 
that the banquet had been abandoned, it was ordered 
that the execution of the warrants be suspended, 
and that the troops be sent back to their quarters. 
As it was desirable to avoid all provocation, this 
order can hardly be thought to have been unwise. 
Its effect, however, was not what had been antici- 
pated, — it simply cleared the way for the rioters. 
During the night a feverish excitement prevailed, 
and throughout the day of the 22d, places of busi- 



316 DEMOCRACY AND MONARCHY llSf FRANCE. 

ness were everywhere closed. It became more and 
more apparent that the revolutionists were for- 
midable and resolute. During the following night 
the excitement continued. On the morning of the 
2od, the tumult throughout the city had so in- 
creased, that the royal family became alarmed, and 
the king himself began to hesitate. Everywhere 
in the city the cry of ^''Down with the ministry!'''' 
was heard, and presently the queen, frightened out 
of her wits, added her voice to the voice of the mul- 
titude. Other members of the royal family fol- 
lowed her example. The result was not altogether 
an unnatural one, although it was one which be- 
trayed a deplorable weakness in the king. As we 
have already seen, Guizot himself had at one 
time been in favor of a change of ministry ; the 
queen was now in favor of it, the king's sons 
were in favor of it, the mob was in favor of it ; — ■ 
because it was not done, indeed, the tide of insur- 
rection was rising in every part of the city. Even 
at that late hour, as we shall in a moment see, vig- 
orous measures would have reduced everything 
into submission. But the king was amiable, and 
he granted to the importunities of his wife and 
family what, we may well believe, he would never 
have granted to the cries of the insurrectionists 
alone. The king^'s weakness in being: unable to 
answer their entreaties with a decisive No ! imper- 
illed everything. At three o'clock on the 23d, 
with the insurrection growing everywhere more 
and more formidable, the king announced that the 



THE REVOLUTION OF 1848. 3I7 

formation of a new ministry would be entrusted to 
M. Mole. 

The effect of this unexpected turn of affairs 
was the very opposite of what had been so fool- 
ishly expected. The queen and the Duke de 
Montpensier had been so beside themselves as to 
suppose, and the king so weak as to hope, that 
this surrender would satisfy the mob, and that 
they would abandon their weapons and return to 
their homes in peace. No supposition could have 
been weaker, or, indeed, more unnatural. The 
cry of defiance was instantly converted into a cry 
of victory. The ruler in any sphere, be that 
sphere high or low, who yields before armed re- 
sistance, is from the moment of his yielding a 
ruler no longer. So it proves everywhere ; so it 
proved in Paris. Just as had happened in 1789, 
when the crown receded before the populace, the 
event was universally interpreted as a shrinking 
of royalty from an encounter. Like demons un- 
chained, the denizens of the faubourgs rushed to 
the designated places of resort. "All," says one 
of the annalists, " who were in debt, all who had 
anything to gain by disturbance, the galley-slaves, 
the robbers, the burglars, the assassins, combined 
in one hideous mSUe. Some hoped for rapine and 
blood, others for disorder and confusion — all for 
selfish benefit from convulsion." 

It was about three o'clock on the afternoon of 
the 23d when the change of ministry was pro- 
claimed in the chambers by Guizot himself. The 



318 DEMOCRACY AND MONARCHY IN FRANCE, 

king, lie announced, had sent for Mole, and the 
new cabinet would be made up as speedily as pos- 
sible. The fact of this public announcement is of 
great importance, inasmuch as it reveals in its true 
light the spirit of the insurgents. The chambers 
at once adjourned, and the important news was 
speedily carried to every part of Paris. 

At one o'clock on the evening of the day when 
the change of ministry was announced, a band of 
insurgents, more ragged and ferocious than the 
rest, armed with pikes and clubs, and headed by a 
wild-looking demon named Lagrange, set out from 
the Place de la Bastile and advanced to the resi- 
dence of the prime minister. The mansion had 
been fi'equently threatened, and for its protection 
a troop of soldiers was on guard. The insurgents, 
with their pikes and their red flag flaming in the 
light of the torches which they carried, were 
forced to halt at the line of bayonets that barred 
the street. At the sight of the mob pressing up 
with their torches, the horse of the commander 
became unmanageable and created some confusion. 
At this moment Lagrange discharged his pistol in 
the direction of the troop. The soldiers, thinking 
themselves attacked, levelled their pieces, and by 
a single volley brought down fifty of the mob 
killed or wounded. Some such result as this had 
evidently been anticipated — probably desired ; for 
the insurgents at once placed the dead upon a 
wagon that had followed the mob for the purpose, 
arranp:ino: the bodies in such a manner as to make 



THE REVOLUTION OF 1848. 319 

the most tragic display of their bleeding wounds. 
The course pursued encourages the presumption, 
indeed, almost affords positive proof, that the 
whole affair had been premeditated simply to add 
to the excitement and fury of the people. When 
the hideous mass, crowned by a half -naked woman, ' 
was arranged in the most artistic manner for the 
display, the word of command was given : " To 
the National ! " and thither they went, surrounded 
by a constantly increasing crowd shouting in the 
highest state of excitement. From the office of 
the National they went to that of the Heforme^ 
where they were harangued by leaders who took 
good care to represent the bodies as having fallen 
under the blows of a cruel and vindictive tyranny. 
From the office of the Reforme this coi*tege con- 
tinued its course, and all night it paraded through 
the streets of Paris. Surrounded by a mad crowd 
of howding men and women, it spread consterna- 
tion wherever it went, and created everywhere a 
thirst for vengeance. 

The result was precisely what Lagrange and his 
followers had probably desired. Barricades were 
hastily thrown up in the central parts of the city ; 
the insurgents took possession of the principal 
churches as head-quarters ; w^agons and omnibuses 
were overturned to form barriers ; paving-stones 
were torn up ; gun-shops were broken open and 
rifled of their contents; in short, every prepara- 
tion was made for a most desperate resistance. It 



320 BEMOCBACY AND MONARCHY IN FBANGK 

was apparent that at daybreak a terrible shock 
would come. 

While these preparations were going on in the 
streets, the greatest embarrassments prevailed at 
the Tuileries. Mole, who had been summoned 
by the king to succeed Guizot, found it impossible 
to form a cabinet. In this dilemma his majesty 
turned to his old minister for advice. " Call 
Thiers," was his answer ; and Thiers was entrusted 
with the task. Whether he would succeed better 
was not immediately apparent. But something 
had to be done at once, without waiting for cabi- 
net action. At a conference held in the middle of 
the night by the king and Guizot, it was deter- 
mined to appoint Marshal Bugeaud to the com- 
mand of the military forces, including the National 
Guard. 

As this old hero, accompanied by Guizot, passed 
through the city to reach the head-quarters of the 
army, it w^as apparent that the mad tide of insur- 
rection was everywhere rising. "What do you 
think of the prospect ? " asked Guizot. " It is 
rather late," responded the marshal, " but I have 
never yet been defeated, and I shall not begin to- 
morrow." This was at two o'clock in the morn- 
ing of the 24th of February. 

At head-quarters he found everything in confu- 
sion. His vigor and capacity, however, gave a new 
inspiration. Everything was changed as if by 
enchantment. Chaos was reduced to order, and 
messengers were despatched throughout the city in 



THE REVOLUTION OF 1848. 32I 

every direction. Every one saw that a master-mind 
had taken hold of affairs. At five in the morning 
the whole army of twenty-five thousand men was 
in motion. The plan was to advance through the 
city in four columns, to destroy all the barricades 
in their passage, and to await orders when they 
had reached their destination. And such was the 
extraordinary vigor with which the orders were 
carried out, that in two hours after the officers had 
mounted the saddle, or as early as seven o'clock, the 
Hotel de Ville, the Pantheon, and the whole centre 
of the city was occupied by the troops. The bar- 
ricades had been surmounted and destroyed, and 
that too by the mere force of the advance, without 
the firing of a single shot. In fiYQ houi-s from the 
moment when Marshal Bugeaud took command, 
Paris was conquered and the revolution averted. 

But at this moment the marshal received a note 
signed by M. Thiers, ordering him to cease the 
combat, and to withdraw his troops. With this 
unaccountable order he absolutely refused to com- 
ply, except at the positive command of the king. 
But an order from the Duke de Nemours coming 
directly from the cabinet, compelled him to submit. 

The secret of this extraordinary change of policy 
at the moment when decisive success had every- 
where been secured over the insurgents, was that 
the cabinet, which M. Thiers had at length suc- 
ceeded in forming, had determined upon a policy 
of conciliation and concession. The appointment 
of Bugeaud to the command of the army was the 

14* 



322 DE3I0GRACY AND MONARCHY IN FRANCE. 

last act of Guizot's administration ; the first act of 
the ministry of Thiers was to surrender to the 
mob everything that had been gained. 

The policy of Thiers was to withdraw the troops 
from all the positions they had won, to terminate 
the conflict by simple submission. Placards signed 
by the new ministers announced the change of 
policy all over the city. 

The result was what, it would seem, the least 
knowledge of the elements of the problem would 
have anticijjated. Shouts of triumph were raised 
by the revolutionists, while the friends of order 
were everywhere filled with dismay. All saw that 
the victory had been abandoned at the moment 
when it had been won. As the soldiers marched 
back over the barricades which they had just 
taken at the point of the bayonet, their indigna- 
tion was universal Many of the officers, in their 
rage, broke their swords and threw them on the 
pavement, while large numbers of the soldiers ac- 
tually threw away their muskets, in sheer anger 
and disgust. 

In deep dejection the columns of the army slowly 
wended their way back to the vicinity of the Tuil- 
eries and the Palais Poyal. 

In their retreat they were closely followed by 
the torrent of revolution, which now from all quar- 
ters rolled impetuously forward. At eight o'clock, 
the placards had been j)osted throughout the city; 
at ten o'clock the tide of excitement in consequence 
had risen so high^ that Thiers felt that he could no 



THE REVOLUTION OF 1848. 323 

longer direct the governraent^ and accordingly he- 
sougJU the Mng to place another in his stead. 
Those few hours constituted but a short aclminis- 
tration, and yet they were long enough to make 
the saving of the monarchy impossible. Had the 
policy so happily begun by Marshal Bugeaud been 
carried forward, it is impossible to see why the 
Orleans family might not to-day have been in pos- 
session of the throne of France. 

But to the cause of the government the with- 
drawal of the troops was absolutely fatal. The 
soldiers, paralyzed by the order not to fire, could 
oppose no resistance to the armed multitude that 
now surged around them. After a slight struggle 
they were forced to abandon the Palais Boyal. 
In an instant the mob broke into this august edifice, 
and sacked and plundered it from top to bottom. 
The most beautiful pictures, the most splendid 
statues, the most gorgeous furniture shared a 
common destruction at the hands of the multitude. 
In half an hour, those magnificent apartments 
were nothing but a mass of destroyed splendor. 

From the Palais Royal, the crowd, carrying tro- 
phies of their triumph, surged toward the Tuiler- 
ies. The queen appealed to the troops from the 
balcony — Marie Antoinette had stood in the same 
place, and for the same vain purpose, on the 10th 
of August, 1792. The king put on his uniform, 
and presented himself to the National Guard ; but 
it was only to hear with his own ears and see with 
liis own eyes that all was lost. As he re-entered 



324 DEMOGRACT AND MONABGHY IN FRANCE. 

tlie royal apartments with pale visage, lie may 
have remembered that Louis XVI., after a similar 
attempt on the fatal 10th of August, had returned 
to the same room. A moment after his return, 
Emile de Girardin appeared, and in a few short 
words informed the kino; that " nothino^ shorfc of 
abdication would now suffice.'' " Nothing else ? " 
" Sire, the abdication of the king, or the abdication 
of monarchy," was the reply. At these words the 
Duke de Montpensier, the king's son, with an 
interest that was indecently transparent, urged his 
father to abdicate rather than sacrifice the dynasty. 
"While the king was hesitating. Marshal Bugeaud, 
having heard the report of the abdication, rushed 
into the apartments. ''^ Never abdicate! " exclaimed 
the veteran; '' 8ucli an act ivill disarm the troojjs. 
The insurrection approaches : nothing remains hut 
to comhai it.'''' " Sign not ! " exclaimed Piscatory ; 
" abdication is the republic in an hour." 

But the shots were growing nearer and nearer, 
and every moment breathless messengers brought 
word that all was lost, and that abdication would 
be the only safety for the lives of the royal family. 
While the king still hesitated, Montpensier re- 
newed his indecent appeals with frantic energy. 
At last, Louis Philippe, overcome with emotion, 
sierned the fatal document which terminated his 
reign. 

He was urged to declare the Duchess of Orleans 
regent, but he positively refused. " Others may 
do so if they deem it necessary, but I will not. It 



THE BEVOLUTION OF 1848. 395 

would be contrary to law ; and since, thank God ! 
I have never yet been guilty of violating it, I will 
not begin to do so at this moment." ''Y/hat 
then ! " said the Duchess of Orleans, -' will you leave 
me here without friends, without relations, with- 
out counsel ? What would you wish me to do ? " 
" My dear Hellen," replied the king, " the dynasty 
and the crown of your son are at stake ; remain, 
then, to save the crown for him." And with these 
words the king, the queen, and the princesses set 
out to leave the palace; the Duchess of Orleans 
and her two sons remained behind. Escaping 
from the Tuileries through the gardens, the royal 
fugitives found two cabriolets that were disengaged, 
and so made their escape from the city. 

Thus the insurgents were rid of the king ; it re- 
mained to be seen whether they would be rid of 
monarchy. There remained, to support the fall- 
ing dynasty, the infant Count of Paris, the Prin- 
cess Hellen, his mother, and the Duke of Nemours, 
his legal guardian. Scarcely had Louis Philippe 
and his companions in sorrow left the palace, when 
the President of the Chamber of Deputies, M. 
Dupin, sought an interview with the princess. " I 
came to tell you," said he, on being received, 
"that perhaps the role of Maria Theresa is re- 
served for you." " Lead the way," replied the 
princess, " my life belongs to France and to my 
children." '^ Then there is not a moment to lose ; 
let us go instantly to the Chamber of Deputies." 
No sooner had they left the Tuileries, than the 



326 DEMOGBAGY AND MOJSfABGEY IN FRANCE. 

mobj now wholly unrestrained by the soldiery, 
rushed into the palace, and repeated tlie work 
tliat they liad done at the Palais Eoyal. The 
insignia of royalty were torn down and destroyed, 
and a republic was ostentatiously proclaimed. 

On arriving at the Chamber of Deputies, the 
princess found everything in trepidation. Only 
the departure, of the king was known, and every- 
body seemed to be ready to inquire. What next ? 
Thiers was absent, Lamartine was absent, — there 
was no one ready to take the lead. 

In this condition of affairs, M. Dupin ascended 
the tribune, and declared that the king had abdi- 
cated and transmitted his rights to his grandson, 
and to the Duchess as regent. The report was 
false, inasmuch as the king's last act in his palace 
was to refuse to do what he deemed an illegal 
act. But the president doubtless judged that the 
23rincess would be the more popular, and for that 
reason the more successful, regent. 

The announcement was received with applause ; 
indeed, with considerable enthusiasm. The cham- 
ber at once, by acclamation, declared the Count of 
Paris, king, and the duchess, regent. It seemed 
for a moment that the throne would be saved. 
But it was only for a moment. The mob, which 
had followed the Princess and the Count of Paris, 
now broke into the chambers. It had begun by 
demanding a change of ministry as the price of 
quiet ; and the demand had been granted. It 
then demanded abdication as the price of the dy- 



THE MEVOLUTION OF 1848. 327 

nasty ; tliat too had been complied with. It was 
now present to demand a republic without condi- 
tions. 

The events which followed the proclamation of 
the Count of Paris as king are of extraordinary 
interest, inasmuch as they show in the strongest 
light the extraordinary character of the Revolu- 
tion. There is abundant proof that the leaders of 
the movement were conscious of the weakness of 
their course among the people of the nation. To 
realize how completely this consciousness pre- 
vailed, we have only to read Lamartine's account 
of their interview. What were they to do ? was 
the important question which now confronted 
them. Were they called upon to proclaim a re- 
public at once, or ought they, on the contrary, to 
acquiesce in the continuance of monarchy ? Were 
the people ready for a republic, or were the sym- 
pathies of the people such that the proclamation 
of a republic would create a reaction in favor of 
monarchy? Would it be better to support the 
Count of Paris as king, to appoint a minister to 
control him, and to continue the agitation of re- 
publican doctrines until they should become so 
prevalent as to leave no chance for a reaction ? 
These were difficult questions, but they demanded 
an immediate answer. 

At half-past ten on the morning of the 24th, the 
man who was to answer these questions was, ac- 
cording to his own account, still at his home. He 
had anticipated nothing more than a change of 



328 I>EMOGRAGT AND MONARCHY IN FRANCE. 

ministry ; and as lie had no curiosity to hear the 
names of the new ministers read ofE in the Assem- 
bly, he was in no haste to take his seat. But he 
was now told that the rioters might attack the 
chamber, and, if there was to be any danger, he 
considered it his duty to be present. He relates 
that as he reached the gates of the palace where 
the chambers were in session, two generals on 
horseback met. '' What news ? " asked one. 
" Nothing of importance," answered the other ; 
" the crowd is not numerous, and scatters at the 
least movement of my squadrons ; and as for the 
bridge, the best troops in Europe could not force 
it." The response is of historical interest, inas- 
much as it shows that the mob was at that mo- 
ment under control. 

Lamartine entered the Palace Bourbon, con- 
vinced, as he says, that he had been called by a 
false alarm. But he was deceived only for a 
moment. As he entered the vestibule, he was 
met by seven or eight persons who were anxiously 
waiting for him. They were representatives of 
the press, editors of the National and the Me- 
forme. They demanded a secret conference. Lam- 
artine took them into a distant apartment of the 
palace, when one of them, speaking for all, ad- 
dressed him as follows : 

'' We are republicans, and we continue republi- 
cans ; but we can postpone the I'epublic, if France 
is not yet ripe for it ; — if she would not yield to it 
without resistance ; if there be more danger in 



THE REVOLUTION OF 1848. 329 

launching lier at once into the fulness of her des- 
tined institutions than in holding her on their 
brink. These are our doubts ; we call on you to 
resolve them. The people call on you : they trust 
you ; — what you say will be re-echoed ; what you 
desire will be done. The reign of Louis Philippe 
is over. But might a temporary sovereignty, in 
the name of a child, in the hands of a woman, 
guided by a popular minister appointed by the 
people and esteemed by the republicans ; — might 
such a phantom of monarchy suspend the crisis and 
prepare the nation for the republic ? Will you 
be that minister? Will you be the guardian of 
our dying royalty and of our infant liberty, b}^ 
governing the child, the woman, and the people ? 
In our persons the republican party gives itself up 
to you ; we formally engage to bear you to power 
by the irresistible impulse of the revolution which 
you hear roaring without. We will keep you 
there by our votes, by our journals, by our secret 
societies, and by our disciplined forces in the deep- 
est strata of society. Your course shall be ours. 
France and Europe will believe you to be the min- 
ister of the Kegent ; ive shall know that you are 
the minister of the Republic." 

Such was the errand which this group of news- 
paper editors had been waiting to deliver. They 
professed then to have the poioer to determine 
whether France should have a monarchical or 
whether it should have a republican form of 
government, and this power of decision Lamartine 



330 DEMOCRACY AND MONARCHY IN FRANCE. 

does not question. They have come to ask Lamar- 
tine's advice, — rather they have come to throw the 
responsibility of deciding upon Lamartine himself. 
I imagine it would be difficult to find in all history 
an instance where so important a decision was 
formally entrusted to a single person. When to 
Julius Caesar, or to Peter the Great, or to Napo- 
leon the First, was it ever said by the representa- 
tives of a party in power, " Here is our country ; 
determine at will whether it shall be ruled by a 
king or whether it shall be ruled by a president ? " 

And now let us ask what peculiar qualifications 
Lamartine had for the safe performance of so mo- 
mentous a task. In my estimation they were very 
few. 

That he had real genius of a certain kind there 
can be no possible question. The impress of great 
literary talent is to be seen in all his works. His 
mind, naturally ardent and enthusiastic, had been 
nurtured and enriched by travel and by reflection. 
His descriptive powers are certainly of the very 
highest order. His mind is at all times essentially 
poetical, and his poetry is remarkable for its ex- 
quisite touches of grace and delicacy. His prose 
is itself poetry. So completely is his mind filled 
with poetical images, so keen are his perceptions, 
so sensitive is he to the grand and the beautiful, 
so enthusiastic are his emotions in the presence of 
the elevated, that he can hardly touch the most 
ordinary theme without beautifying it with all 
the hues of romance. His mind was as fertile as 



TEE BEVOLUTIOIT OF 1848. 331 

its organization was exquisite. For a considerable 
time lie wrote, it is said, six octavos a year, and 
they were all overflowing with an exuberance of 
fancy and a delicacy of expression which gave 
them a high place in the literature of the nation. 

Now it may be remarked, that these qualities 
of mind and these characteristics of manner, ad- 
mirable as they are in a poet and in a writer of 
romance, are well-nigh fatal to the value of the 
works of a writer of history. Ostrich plumes, and 
gold lace, and silver knee-buckles may be well in 
their place, but they are not the fit dress of hard- 
working men. You cannot with propriety or 
profit translate Legendre into iambics, or set Black- 
stone to music. A historian may be dramatic in 
his description of events, powerful in his delinea- 
tion of character, generous in feeling, lofty in sen- 
timent, and yet, if he have not sober judgment and 
rational views, as an instructor of his readei's he 
is as nothing, and worse than nothing. In the 
portrayal of political events the fire of poetry is 
not a fit substitute for good sense and a practical 
understanding of mankind. 

I speak thus because Lamartine's great influ- 
ence on the French people had been not as a poet, 
but as a historian. He had written mucli history, 
and, to use a phrase of Chateaubriand, had covered 
it all with the bright charms of liis light and 
shade. His history of the Girondists had all the 
excellences and all the defects of his style of com- 
position. The almost infinite grace and brilliancy 



332 BEMOOBACT AND MONABGHT IN FBANCE. 

of its manner secured for it a success absolutely 
unknown since the clays of Rousseau and Voltaire. 
Though published in eight volumes, fifty thousand 
copies of it were sold in the first year. It became 
the Frenchman's interpretation of the Great Revo. 
lution. It represented the heroes of that great 
convulsion in colors so attractive that men, and 
still more women, came not only to admire them, 
but also to be inspired with a certain longing to 
plunge into similar scenes of excitement themselves. 
Just as spirited boys sometimes become sailors 
from reading terrific tales of shipwreck, or soldiers 
from stories of heroic deeds in the deadly charge, 
so thousands of the French people were inspired 
with an indefinite longing for some such excite- 
ment as had existed in the days of the Reign of 
Terror. Lamartine drew no veil over the weak- 
nesses and the ambition of the Girondists, it is true, 
but he sarrounded them with such a halo of fine 
words that they became interesting in spite of 
their faults : nay, perhaps it should rather be said, 
in very consequence of their faults. The most 
sinister and selfish enterprises were covered with 
the most brilliant colors, and the deepest interest 
was excited in the men of fewest virtues and of 
greatest vices. Even the turpitude of Robespierre 
was made attractive by the very sublimity into 
which it was magnified, and for the same reason 
that one may struggle almost in vain against a kind 
of admiration for Satan as the hero of the Para- 
dise Lost. 



Hi'. 



THE BE VOLUTION OF 1848. 333 

Now let us look for the tangible results. 
Thousands and tens of thousands of copies of the 
Girondists were published in cheap form and dis- 
tributed at a price which the lowest workmen 
could afford. The picturesque vividness with 
which the work was written, the dark grandeur 
with which the revolutionary chiefs were sur- 
rounded, above all, the irresistible power with 
which the masses were invested, not only made 
the people familiar with revolt and street- war, but 
also inspired in ill-regulated minds a desire for ex- 
citement and a longing to reproduce scenes similar 
to those described. It was under an influence like 
this that portraits of the revolutionary chiefs were 
displayed on the boulevards, in the shops, and 
along all quays, and that prints representing the 
principal scenes of the Revolution were every- 
where appealing to the passions and the enthusi- 
asm of the people. Theatres were opened in 
which the Revolution was acted in plays that 
lasted, for weeks. The events of the 10th of 
x\ugust, as thus portrayed in the Girondists of 
Lamartine, in the theatres, in the shop-windows, 
and on the bulletins, so interested the populace 
that they desired to see a 10th of August ; and 
they were ready to make one. Beyond all possi- 
ble doubt, Lamartine had thus exerted an im- 
mense influence in bringing about the Revolution 
of 1848, and in driving Louis Pliili])pe from the 
throne. It would scarcely be too nuicli to say 
that ever after the publication of the Girondists 



334: DEMOCRACY AWD MONARCHY IN FRANCE. 

the gamins of Paris were ready for an insurrec- 
tion, not, indeed, in opposition to any tyranny, 
but solely " by way of a lark." 

Such had been Lamartine's influence. I think 
it not strange, therefore, that the leaders and rep- 
resentatives of the Revolution, when it came, 
looked to him for guidance. They, as we have 
seen, placed all their power at his disposal. He 
seems to have felt to some extent the terrible re- 
sponsibility thrust upon him. He assures us that, 
when the speaker had concluded, he asked for a 
moment's time for reflection. Resting his elbows 
on the table, and burying his face in his hands, 
he spends ^lyq or six minutes in almost breathless 
thought. At length, uncovering his face, he gives 
expression to his decision. He canvasses the 
various considerations which press upon his mind. 
He vividly 23ortrays what he believes the result 
will be in case they decide upon monarchy, and 
what in case tkey decide upon a republic. Finally 
he gives his voice for the latter. His concluding 
words in announcing this decision are worthy of 
quotation, partly because they are a fair specimen 
of his extraordinary eloquence, but chiefly because 
they reveal the false basis on which his reasoning 
was founded : 

"As for myself," he said, ''I see clearly the 
succession of catastrophies which I should prepare 
for my country if I were to attempt to stop the 
avalanche of the Revolution, on a slope on which, 
no dynastic power can retain it, without adding 



THE REVOLUTIO]^ OF 1848. 335 

to its mass and tlie crash of its fall. One power 
only can avert the danger in snch a revolution as 
ours : it is the power of the people itself ; it is 
the suffrage, the will, the reason, the interest, the 
hands, and the weapons of all — it is the republic. 
Yes, it is the republic which alone can save you 
from anarchy, from civil war, from confiscation, 
from the scaifold, from the overthrow of society 
from wdthin, and from, invasion from without. It 
is a heroic remedy, but in such times as these it is 
a policy as bold, almost as violent, as the crisis 
itself that is needed. Give to the people the re- 
public to-morrow, and call it by its name, and you 
change its anger into joy, and its fury into enthu- 
siasm. All who cherish in their hearts republican 
feelings, — all whose imaginations dwell on repub- 
lican visions, — all who regret,— all who hope, — all 
who reason and all who meditate in France, — all 
the secret societies,— all the active and all the 
speculative republicans, — the people, the dema- 
gogues, the young men, the students, the journal- 
ists, the men of action and the men of thouglit, — 
all will utter one cry, will crowd around only one 
standard — at first in confusion, afterwards in dis- 
ciplined order, to protect society by the govern- 
ment of all its members. Such power may be 
disturbed, but it cannot be deposed, for its base is 
the nation. It is the only force which can pro- 
tect itself, the only force that can moderate itself, 
the only j)ower that can bring the voice, the 
hands, the reason, the will, and the arms of all to 



336 DEMOCBAGY AND MONARCHY IN FRANCE. 

protect, on tlie one hand the nation from servi- 
tude, and on the other hand property, morality, 
the relations of kindred and society from the 
deluge which is washing away the foundation of 
the throne. 

" If anarchy can be subdued, it is by the repub- 
lic. If communism can be conquered, it is by the 
republic. If the revolution can be guided, it is by 
the republic. If blood can be spared, it is by the 
republic. . If a general war and invasion can be 
averted, it is by a republic. Therefore, as a ra- 
tional and conscientious statesman, free from all 
illusion and from all fanaticism, I declare before 
God and before you, that if this day is big with a 
revolution, I will not conspire for a half revolu- 
tion. I will conspire indeed for Qione^ but I vv^ill 
accept only a complete one, — a republic. 

" But," he added, rising from the table, '* I 
still hope God will spare my country this trial. I 
accept revolutions : I do not make them. To as- 
sume such a resj)onsibility, a man must be a vil- 
lain, a madman, or a god." 

" Lamartine is right," said one of the auditors ; 
^' he has more faith in our own ideas than we have." 
" We are convinced," they all cried. " Let us 
separate," said they to Lamartine ; '' do what under 
the inspiration of events you think best." ^'' 

At the close of this interview, Lamartine and 
the editors repaired immediately to the chamber. 

An hour later the large door of the liall opened, 

* Lamartine, History of tlie Revolution of 1848, p. 96. 



THE BEVOLUTION OF 1848. 337 

and, as already described, tlie Ducliess of Orleans, 
leading her sons, entered. As we have before seen, 
M. Dupin's motion to declare the Count of Paris 
king, and his mother regent, was carried by ac- 
clamation. But when they were proceeding to 
register the votes, a new tumult arose. The ac- 
tion, if consummated, would frustrate • all the de- 
signs of the conspirators. Marrast, one of the 
editors of the National^ suddenly left the gallery 
of the journalists, and went out to bring in a 
bolder mob. Marie ascended the tribune, and, re- 
marlving the illegality of the regency, demanded a 
Provisional Government. This demand was fav- 
ored by Ledru Rollin, who desired, in the true 
style of '92, not only a Provisional Government, 
but also a Convention. There was now a cry for 
Lamartine. As we have seen, his conduct was 
prearranged. On ascending the tribune, he pro- 
ceeded to develop his views concerning the de- 
mands of the situation. He declared that the 
first duty of the chamber was to appoint a Pro- 
visional Government. To this the chamber and 
the attendant mob responded with loud accLama- 
tions. " The first duty of such a Provisional Gov- 
ernment," continued he, '' will be to put an end to 
the contest which is now raging; tlie second, to 
call together the whole electoral I^ody, — and 1)y 
the whole body I mean all who are citizens, l)e- 
cause they are men, — because they are beings (Wi- 
dowed with an intellect and a will." 

At this declaration in favor of universal suifragci 

15 



338 I>EMOCBAGr AND MONARCHY IN FRANCE. 

the shouts of approbation were louder than be- 
fore. But at this moment Marrast entered the 
hall with about three hundred rioters, fresh from 
the sack of the Tuileries. Some of them levelled 
their muskets at the Princess, who, with her chil- 
dren, now fled for her life. No sooner were the 
royal personages gone, than Lamartine was called 
upon to name the Provisional Government. He 
says in one place in his book that he refused, and 
in another that he complied."^* 

The men appointed were Marie, Lamartine, Le- 
dru RoUin, Cremieux, Dupont de I'Eure, Arago, 
and Garnier-Pages. The majority of these, it may 
be observed, had already prepared the way for 
their appointment by proposing in the debate a 
Provisional Government. Thus it was definitely 
fi.xed that France should enter a second time on 
the experiment of a republic. 

I have dwelt somewhat at length on the details 
of this Revolution, for the purpose of showing the 
true character of those events which immediately 
led to the abandonment of royalty. The facts, as 
I have endeavored to present them, show conclu- 
sively that the matter of the form of the new 
government was the result of the merest acci- 
dent, f We have seen that the representatives of 

* His words are, '■'■ 11 se lorne a souffler tout las aux scrutaieurs les 
noms qui se presenteut le plus naturellement d son esprit^ He adds that 
the scrutaieurs handed the names up to the president, who proclaimed 
them to the mob. 

\ On this point we have the most positive testimony ; no less an au- 
thority than De Tocqueville. He says : 

'*The monarchy might have been saved if the prDolamation of the 



THE REVOLUTION OF 1848. 339 

the conspirators proposed to Lamartine to substi- 
tute the Count of Paris as king for Louis Philippe 
with the Duchess of Orleans as regent, and that 
he objected to the scheme as one that could not be 
permanent. Was Lamartine correct in his course 
of reasoning ? Did the republic accomplish what 
Lamartine in the eloquent passage just quoted de- 
clared that it would accomplish ? The chief rea- 
son of his deciding for a republic was a belief that 
a republic alone would harmonize all the turbu- 
lent elements of the nation into a compact govern- 
ment. What, as a matter of fact, was the result ? 
In two days after the appointment of the Provis- 
ional Government it was on the brink of ruin from 
an attack of the Terrorists. Three weeks later, 
March 17th, it was saved from destruction merely 
by the hesitation of its enemies, Lamartine him- 
self tells us that only a few days later, on the 
15th of April, he burnt his papers, and that, when 
he went to bed, he had no expectation of surviving 



Provisional Government and the retreat of the Duchess of Orleans 
could have been retarded for an hour. After having sat out the revo- 
lutionary scene, heard the proclamation of the republic, and seen 
Lamartine and Ledru RoUin set ofE for the Hotel de Ville, I was quib- 
ting the chamber, and had reached the landing--place of the staircase, 
when I met a company of the 10th Legion with fixed bayonets led by 
General Oudinot, not in uniform, but brandishing his cano in military 
style and saying : ' En Avant ! Vive Ic Eoi et la Duchesse d'Oileans Ro- 
gente.' Oudinot recognized me and caught me by the arm, crying out : 
' Where are you going ? Come with us and we will sweep these ruf- 
fians out of the chamber.' 'My dear general,' I answered, ' it is too 
late. The chamber is dissolved, the duchess has fled, and the- Provis- 
ional Government is on its way to the Hotel de Ville.' ''—De Toc(2UCciUe, 
Mimoires^ vol. II. p. 110. 



340 I>EMOGBAGT AND MONARCHY IN FRANCE. 

the insurrection of the next day. Again, one 
month later, on the 15th of May, a new revolu- 
tion was for a time triumphant. At the middle 
of April, a civil war of four days ended in the 
dictatorship of General Cavaignac. Finally the 
French people formally repudiated the republic 
by confirming Napoleon III. on the imperial 
throne. Such, then, proved to be the stability 
that was the basis of Lamartine's decision. 

But there is one question which I have not yet 
asked, and which is pertinent to the history in 
hand. Admitting that the republic was the re- 
sult of a series of chances or accidents or blunders, 
the question may still be asked whether France 
wanted a republic. Was the mob, which really 
set up the republic, a political representative of 
the nation ? On the answer to this question our 
justification or condemnation of the Eevolution 
must be founded ; or rather, I ought to say, there 
can be no justification of the Revolution unless it 
can be shown that the insurgents represented the 
ideas generally prevailing in the nation. If re- 
publicanism means one thing more than another, it 
means the prevalence of the properly expressed 
will of the majority. Republicanism itself must 
admit that if such a majority desire a king rather 
than a president, a king they should have. Now 
how was it in France ? This question is to be an- 
swered not by any vague guesses, but by a careful 
inspection of testimony. 

As most important of all testimony on this ques- 



THE BEVOLUTION OF 1848. 34 J 

tion, we have the words of one whose admiration of 
republican institutions is known to every intelligent 
American. The memoirs and letters of De Toc- 
queville, from which I have already so often 
quoted, abound in the most positive assurances on 
this question. I quote one statement only, though 
it is but a representative of many. On the 27th 
of February, 1849, he wrote to the English histor- 
ian, Grote, as follows : 

^' The events in France during the last year are 
well calculated to attract the attention of an ele- 
vated and thoughtful mind. To a foreigner, w^ho 
sees the effect without understanding the causes, 
they must appear most extraordinary. To those 
who are on the spot and who have watched the in- 
evitable progress of events, nothing can be more 
simple and natural. At any rate, the nation did 
not ^vislh for a revolution^ still less did it desire a 
republic / for, though in France there is not a par- 
ticle of attachment for a particular dynasty, the 
opinion that monarchy is a necessary institution is 
almost universal. France, then, wished for neither 
a revolution nor a republic. That she allowed 
both to be inflicted upon her proceeds from two 
causes : from the fact that Paris, having become, 
during the last fifty years, the first manufacturing 
town in the country, was able on a given day to 
furnish the republican party with an army of arti- 
sans ; and, secondly, from another fact, which is 
the offspring of centralization, that Paris, no mat- 
ter who speaks in her name, dictates to the rest of 



342 I>EMOCRAGY AND MONARCHY IN FRANCE. 

France. These two facts taken together explain 
the catastrophe of February, 1848." ^' 

Emile Thomas, who had the best means of judg- 
ing, declares, in his History of the National Work- 
shops, that " even on the evening of the 24th of 
February, 1848, there were not in Paris 10,000 
avowed republicans." f 

But the most detailed account of the republi- 
can party with which I am acquainted, is that 
given by M. De la Hodde in his History of the Se- 
cret Societies. This author having been initiated 
into all the secrets of their different organizations, 
gives a detailed account of their strength as fol- 
lows : 

"The republican party was, in February, 1848, 
composed of the following persons : 4,000 sub- 
scribers to the National^ of whom only one-half 
were republicans, the other half belonging to the 
dynastic opposition, led by Garnier-Page's and 
Carnot. Of these 2,000, there were not more than 
600 in Paris, and of these only 200 coukl be relied 
on in an actual conflict. The Heforrne had 2,000 
subscribers, of whom 500 were in Paris, and these 
would turn out to a man. The two societies, ''De^ 
Saisons ' and ''La Societe Dissidente,^ promised 
1,000 combatants, though it was doubtful if they 
could muster 600, though the latter embraced all 
the communists in Paris. To these we must add 
400 or 500 old conspirators, whom the first mus 

* De Tocqueville, Memoirs and Remains^ vol. II. p. 94. 
f Thomas, Histoire des Ateliers Nationaux^ p. 14. 



THE BEVOLUTION OF 1848. 343 

ket-shot would recall to their old standards, and 
1,500 Polisli, Italian, and Spanish refugees, who 
would probably do the same, from the idea that it 
would advance the cause of revolution in their 
own countries. In all, then, there were 4,000 in 
Paris, and that was the very utmost that could be 
relied on in the capital, and I defy any one 
to prove the conti'ary. In the provinces there 
was only one real secret society, that at Lyons ; 
Marseilles, Toulouse, and two or three other great 
towns professed to have such, but no reliance 
could be placed on them. On the whole, there 
might be 15,000 or 16,000 republicans in the de- 
partments, and 4,000 in Paris. In all, 19,000, or 
20,000 out of 17,000,000 male inhabitants,— about 
one five-hundreth part of the whole, — a propor- 
tion so infinitely small, that it is evident they 
could never have overturned a formidable govern- 
ment." '"* 

A writer in the Edinburgli Heview for January, 
1850, after stating that he had spent a considerable 
portion of the last two years in France, declares : 

" We have mixed with persons of every class, in 
the provinces as well as in Paris, and with the ex- 
ception of a few socialists, we never met Avith a 
theoretic republican, — that is to say, with any one 
who wished for that form of government, or even 
approved of it, or who did not consider the Revo- 
lution of 1847 a misfortune."f 

* De la Hodde, Illstoire des SocieUs Secretes^ p. 403. 
\Edin. Rev. vol. XCI, Am. Ed., p. 13C. 



344 JDEMOGBAGT AND MONARCHY IN FRANCE. 

Even tlie testimony of Lamartine may be ar- 
I'ayed in support of wliat lias already been said. 
At the mutiny of tlie Assembly lie saw the un- 
popularity of republican institutions, and acted 
accordingly. " Republican feelings," said he, " are 
weak in France. They are chiefly represented by 
men who excite horror or terror. As soon as a 
majority of the peoj)le, — which, in an enthusiasm 
of terror, threw itself into the hands of a moderate 
republic, — shall have recovered its presence of 
mind, it will accuse those who have saved it, and 
turn on the republicans." ^ 

I might, in support of these views of the causes 
of the Revolution, quote numerous passages from 
Prevost-Paradol, De Broglie, Seneuil, and others, 
but it is unnecessary. I have preferred to cite 
only those who recorded their impressions at the 
time of the events described, 

l^ow, in the presence of these facts, republican 
government in France was simply impossible. It 
would have been impossible even if the advocates 
of republicanism had been of a character to in- 
spire natural respect. But such was far from 
being the case. 

There is one other phase of the matter which 
must not be overlooked. I refer to the general 
condition of the masses of the people. Were they 
in a state of advancement such as to make repub- 
lican institutions desirable or even possible ? 

This question, of course, for those who think 

* Rixolution^ II. p. 405. 



THE REVOLUTION OF 1848. 345 

that for all time and under all circumstances a re- 
publican form is the only good form of govern- 
ment, will have no significance. But, on the other 
hand, for those who derive their impressions from 
the teachings of history rather than from their 
own desires, and who consequently recognize the 
fact that of all forms of government the republi- 
can needs the greatest amount of general intelli- 
gence, it is a question whose importance, in this 
connection, it is not very easy to exaggerate. 

Baron Dupin, in his work on the ''- Progressive 
Situation of France in 1827," gives an array of 
facts which are as important as they are startling. 
The author writes from a hopeful point of view, 
and therefore cannot be justly charged with paint- 
ing the picture in too dark colors. After refer- 
ring to the fact that of the 36,000 communes, 
14,000 were entirely without schools or school- 
teachers, he says : 

"France will have to put forth the greatest e:fforts 
to raise herself, by means of elementary instruc- 
tion, to the simple level of those people whom we 
have been in the habit of regarding as ignorant. 
I say boldly^ that in this respect we are helow the 
Irish and the Austrians, This inferiority is es- 
pecially noticeable in the South, which is far less 
advanced than the North. ... In 1817, France 
(with a population of some 34,000,000) had in 
her primary schools only 856,712 scholars ; and in 
1820, the number had only increased to 1,116,777. 
Since 1820, the active and powerful impulses of 

15* 



__ .r^^^sjxMVHT IN FBANGE. 

tlie productive and commercial interests on the 
one hand, and the opposition of the adversaries of 
primary schools on the other, have struggled in 
different parts of the country with varying suc- 
cess. Nevertheless, in the majority of instances 
the number of pupils has been increased rather 

than diminished Forty years ago seven 

millions of French knew how to read ; to-day the 
number has been increased to twelve millions. 
.... Secondary schools, which give instruction 
to the intermediate classes, have been vastly 
strengthened since 1814, but the instruction given 
in these establishments has not ceased to be in. 
sufficient and without harmony with the needs of 
the professions. To supply these wants, various 
industrial schools have been founded at Paris, at 
Lyons, at Roville, at Toulouse, and at other cities 
in the realm. The reader, however, can see that 
there remains much to be done in order to render 
primary instruction tolerable and secondary in- 
struction profitable to the kingdom." ^' 

Such, then, according to M. Dupin, was the con- 
dition of France in 1827. From these representa- 
tions, three facts stand out in bold prominence. 
The first is, that of 34,000,000 of inhabitants, only 
12,000,000 could read; the second is, that of 
86,600 communes or townships, 14,000 were w^ith- 
out schools ; and the third is, that the nation was 
making slow but steady advances toward an im- 

* Dupin, Situation progressive des Forces de la France depuis 1814, 
p. 51. 



THE REVOLUTION OF 1848. gz^J- 

proved conditioD. If it be claimed that a consid- 
erable improYement in the intellectual condition 
of the people took place in the reign of Louis 
Philippe, it must not be forgotten that the very 
men who controlled afeirs in 1848 had been the 
very children for the majority of whom, during 
the period of which M. Dupin speaks, education 
was impossible. 

But as a matter of fact, no considerable im- 
provement had been made, or indeed has been 
made, up to the present day. Even in 1872, M. 
Taine, in his work on " Universal Suffrage," shows 
that in all France, of every one hundred male in- 
habitants, thirty-nine can neither write nor read ; 
and that in general, the ignorance of the French 
j)easantry is something incredible, except to those 
who have had the means of observation. These 
statements he fortifies with an array of facts and 
anecdotes that leave no room for doubt. "^ 

An English author, as remarkable for his mod- 
eration as for his culture, after spending a number 
of years in provincial France, gives testimony of 
the same general character. 

"The most parsimonious class in Europe," says 
he, " is the French peasantry ; it is also the class 
most characterized by ignorance and intellectual 
apathy. The French j)easant will not go any- 
where except to the market-town, and could not 
pardon the extravagance of buying a book, or a 
candle to read it by in the evening." f 

* Dii Suffrage Uiiicersel et de la Manlcre dc voler^ p. 10, scq. 
•j- Hamcrton, Ihe Intdlectual Life^ 1). 189. 



348 DEMOCRACY AND MONARCHY IN FRANCE. 

Elsewhere tlie same author declares : 
* " All men of refined sentiment in modern France 
lament the want of elevation in the bourgeoisie. 
They read nothing, they learn nothing, think of 
nothing but money and the satisfaction of their 
appetites. Their ignorance passes belief, and is 
accompanied by an absolute self-satisfaction. M. 
Henan complains that the country is sinking 
deeper and deeper into vulgarity, forgetting its 
past and its noble enthusiasms. ' Talk to the peas- 
ant, to the socialist, to the international, of France, 
of her past history, of her genius, he will not un- 
derstand you. Military honor seems madness to 
him. The taste for great things, the glory of the 
mind, are vain dreams ; money spent for art and 
science is money thrown away foolishly.' 'The 
end of the bourgeoisie commences,' says Flaubert, 
'since it is coming to entertain the sentiments of 
the populace. I do not see that it reads other 
journals, that it regales itself with other music, or 
that its pleasures are more elevated. With both 
classes there is the same love of money, the same 
respect for accompli shed facts ^ the same necessitij 
for idols in order to destroy tliem, the same hatred 
of all superiority^ the same spirit of disparagement^ 
the same sorid (crasse) ignorance,^ " *''' 

Delord, in his admirable History of the Second 
Empire, remarks that though the French peasant 
has been emancipated from many of the customs 
which before the Revolution enthralled him, he is 

* Hamerton, Intellectual Life^ p. 295. 



THE REVOLUTION OF 1848. 349 

essentially the same in character as lie was before 
that event. "^^ 

Now after this view of the condition of the 
country at large, let us look for a moment at the 
condition of Paris ; for after all it was Paris, and 
Paris alone, that made the Revolution. 

In the metropolis, as nowhere else, the doctrines 
and princijoles of the first revolution had taken 
root. The writings of the sensational school of 
the last century had been read by everybody in 
Paris who could read anything, and their blasting 
influence during the past twenty-five years had 
been felt there as in no other part of the nation. 
The natural consequence of those doctrines was 
the well-nigh universal disruption of the old bonds 
of society. There was a general fretting against 
all restraint, human and divine. The people re- 
pudiated Christianity and morals alike. There 
came to be a universal impatience of control, 
whether from the influence of the conscience, or 
the authority of law. This distinctly appeared 
in the style of fictitious literature, which for a 
quarter of a century was poured forth from the 
Parisian press, and which was of a character such 
that if read outside of France, its reading was 
seldom acknowledged. It appeared in the charac- 
ter of the French drama, that mirror of the pub- 
lic mind, which, during the two generations that 

* " Sou instruction et son education en sent restcos h. peu pr's au 
point oil eLles etaient en 89." — Delord, Hist, du ucc. Emp.^ vol. III. p. 
403. 



350 DEMOGRAGY AND MONAUGRY IJSr FRANCE. 

succeeded the writers of wliom I have spoken, 
showed the general prevalence of the same licen- 
tious feeling. Christianity was abjured, not so 
much because it was earnestly disbelieved, for men 
did not earnestly disbelieve anything, but because 
it was disagreeable. They did not give themselves 
the trouble to inquire whether it is true or false ; 
they simply declined it, because it imposed a re- 
straint on their appetites and their passions. 

Now that this is no fanciful picture, there is 
abundant and most painful evidence. In 1848, 
there were in Paris 1,050,000 inhabitants, of whom 
more than one-third Iiad been born out of wedlock. 
To be exact, the proportion, according to the cen- 
sus, was one hundred illegitimate to every one 
hundred and eighty-five legitimate. In Paris, then, 
there were, when the Revolution of 1848 broke 
out, 350,000 people of illegitimate birth. Since 
the Great Revolution, every third child born in 
Paris received its first lessons of life in a found- 
ling hospital. This prodigious fact was both a 
consequence and a cause : it was a consequence 
of those doctrines by which, in a city abounding 
with temptations and overflowing with stimulants 
to the passions, the bonds of Christianity and 
morality had been sundered ; it was the cause of 
that peculiar fondness for insurrection and revolu- 
tion which had its birth in the consciousness, on 
tiie one hand, that disgrace was impossible, and on 
the other, that success would bring with it wealth 
and honor, and every means of gratifying the pas- 



THE BEVOLUTION OF 1848. 35"[ 

sions. The enfant trouve when grown up becomes 
the gamin de Faris^ whose peculiar nature is so 
graphically described by Victor Hugo in Les Mis- 
er able s] and the gamin when still further devel- 
oped is the proper terror of any true civilization. 
He has, generally, the rudiments of an education, 
enough to enable him to read the worst literature, 
that is to say, enough to enable him to imbibe 
temptation in every form, without enabling him to 
combat it. His parents are unknown to him, and 
his offspring are as strange to him as his parents ; 
for they, as their fathei* had been before them, are 
sent to the Foundling Hospital. " He has nothing 
he can call his own, except a j)air of stout arms to 
aid in the forra.ation of barricades, and a dauntless 
heart ready, at any moment, to accept the hazard 
of death or pleasure." There were in Paris, at 
the time of which I speak, eighty or ninety thou- 
sand men, in the prime of life, having such an or- 
igin and actuated by such dispositions and such 
passions ; and there were associated with them an 
equal number of women, of a similar origin and 
of the same character. 

But it is by the graphic hand of Lamartine it- 
self that the picture of the revolutionists is best 
drawn. 

"They were," he says, ''in part composed of 
galley-slaves, who had no political ideas in their 
heads, nor social chimeras in their liearts, bat who 
accepted a revolution as the condition of the dis- 
order it was to perpetuate, the blood it was to shed, 



352 I^I^MOGBAGY AND MOJSfABGHY IN FRANCE. 

tlie terror it was to inspire. They contained also 
a part of that ragged scum of the population of 
great cities, which public commotions cause to rise 
to the surface before it falls back into the common 
sewers from which it had arisen ; men who floated 
between the fumes of intoxication and the thirst 
for blood ; who sniffed carnage while issuing from 
the fumes of debauchery ; who never ceased to be- 
siege the ears of the people till they got a victim 
thrown to them to devour. They were the scour- 
ings of the galleys and the dungeons." 



FROM THE SECOND EEPUBLIC TO 
THE SECOND EMPIRE. 



" Diesem Ambos vergleicli' ich das Land, den Hammer dem 

Herscher ; 
Und dem Yolke das Blech, das in der Mitte sicli kriimmt. 
Wehe dem armen Blech, wenn nur willkiirliche Schlage 
Ungewiss treffen, und nie fertig der Kessel erscheint." 

Goethe. 



V 



CHAPTER VIII 

FEOM THE SECOND EEPUBLIO TO THE SECOND 
EMPIRE. 

THE cliaracter of the Revolution of 1848 is 
well illustrated by the events which immedi- 
ately followed the appointment of the Provisional 
Government. No sooner had the mob, which had 
taken possession of the Chamber of Deputies, rati- 
fied the names presented by Lamar tine, than the 
new govei^nment set out to inaugurate itself at 
the Hotel de Ville. Its troubles began at once. 
While the meeting described in the last chapter 
had been going on at the Chamber of Deputies, 
other events of importance had been taking place 
elsewhere. After the sack of the Tuileries, the 
most radical of the revolutionists had repaired to 
their clubs for consultation. Important meetings 
were hekl at the offices of the Iteforme and the 
National ; and at each of these meetings a Provis- 
ional Government was named. '^' The citizens thus 
appointed had repaired to instal themselves at the 
Hotel de Ville, and were found in their places 
when Lamartine and his friends arrived. The 
most radical of the revolutionists, including Flo- 
con, Louis Blanc, and Albert, had proclaimed 

* Memoir 68 de Gaussidiere, vol. I. p. 03. 



356 DEMoGEAer a::^ monarchy in fbance. 

themselves members of the Provisional Govern- 
ment even before the arrival of the government 
appointed at the Chamber of Deputies.'^' 

The collision w^hich necessarily ensued ended 
in a compromise. The most conspicuous charac- 
ters appointed at the clubs were added to the 
list named by Lamartine. 

As soon as the terms of union were agreed upon, 
it was apparent that the new government con- 
tained within itself the most violent elements of 
discord. Lamartine and Garnier-Pages, on the 
one hand, were earnestly desirous of pursuing a 
moderate policy, such as would inaugurate a sys- 
tem equally removed from an unlimited monarchy 
and an unbridled democracy ; while, on the other, 
Flocon and Albert, as the representatives of the 
clubs, were earnest in their endeavors to carry out 
the ideas of the most radical republicans. Be- 
tween these extremes there were such varied sym- 
pathies and aspirations, as afforded every oppor- 
tunity for the most active and bitter intrigue. In 
less than forty-eight hours after the revolution, a 
most violent war between the moderate and the 
democratic portions of the Provisional Government 
was raging, so violent, indeed, that some of its 
members were thrown into despair, and thought of 
resigning, f 

The first care devolving upon the Provisional 
Government, however, was not the settlement of its 

* Ba^pport de Cnmieux^ vol. I. p. 266. 
f Merrwires de Caussidiei^e, vol. I. p. 90. 



• SECOND REPUBLIC TO SECOND EMPIRE. 357 

own inherent difficulties, but the protection of it- 
self against the violence of the populace. During 
the three days of the insurrection the shops had 
been closed, labor had been suspended, and the 
laboring classes, destitute alike of capital and of 
credit, began to feel the pangs of hunger. On 
the morning of the 25th of February,, just after 
the government was ready to begin its legitimate 
functions, an enormous crowd, amounting, accord- 
ing to every account, to more than 100,000 per- 
sons, assembled in the Place de Greve and sur- 
rounded the Hotel de Ville. So dense was the 
throng, that it pressed into the building itself, and 
filled every passage and stairway and room, up to 
the very table about which the members of the 
government were sitting. To appease the mob, 
decrees were drawn up as rapidly as possible, and 
when they had been struck off on a press that had 
been set up for the purpose, they were distributed 
to the bystanders and thrown from the palace 
windows to the crowd below. 

Some of these decrees were of the most frivo- 
lous character; others penetrated to the most 
vital interests of the nation's political existence. 
One of them, for example, changed the order of 
the colors on the tri-color flag; one abolished 
'-'- Mondeiir'''' and " ifaJam^," and substituted in 
their places '^6^//o?/^7?." and '^OUoyenne''^ ] one lib- 
erated all functionaries from their oatlis of alle- 
giance ; one ordered that the words Lihertc, 
^(jalite^ Fraternite^ should be inscribed on all the 



358 DEMOCBAGY AND MONARCHY IN FRANCE. 

walls of Paris ; one ordered that trees of liberty 
should be planted in all the j)ublic squares; and 
one, that every person should wear a red rosette 
in his button-hole. 

But these absurd acts of the government, so in- 
dicative of the immediate pressure under which 
they were drawn up, failed, of course, to give any 
ultimate satisfaction. What then was to be done ? 
Everything that the mob of a hundred thousand 
should demand. And it called for legislation pro- 
viding for all the interests of society. It de- 
manded that royalty, under every name what- 
soever — legitimacy, Bonapartism, or regency — 
should be formally abolished. Accordingly, a 
decree was published abolishing it, and declaring 
that the government had taken all the steps neces- 
sary to render impossible the return of the former 
dynasty or the accession of a new one. The au- 
thorities then by another manifesto declared that 
the actual government of France is republican, 
and that the nation will immediately be called on 
to I'atify by its votes this resolution of the govern- 
ment and of the people of Paris. They then abol- 
ished all titles of nobility, forbidding any one to 
assume them. They set at liberty all persons 
detained on political grounds. Worst of all, they 
engaged to secure employment to all citizens, and 
for the purpose of carrying out this decree they 
ordered the immediate establishment of national 
workshops.*"' 

* Becueil des Actes du Oouvernement I^rovisoire, Paris, 1848. 



SECOND REPUBLIC TO SECOND EMPIRE. 359 

It would be unjust to charge the extreme folly 
of these decrees upon the government. All the 
authorities agree substantially that the gentlemen 
who sat in the Hotel de Ville and wrote out the 
decrees did little more than act as secretaries for 
the vast crowd that was surging around. Lamar- 
tine himself describes most graphically the situa- 
tion in which they were placed : 

"No sooner," says he, "was one messenger de- 
spatched, charged with an order or a decree signed 
on the corner of a bit of paper with pencil, than 
another arrived with a similar note, announcing 
that the Tuileries was menaced by devastation 
and flames ; that Versailles was surrounded by a 
furious mob which thirsted to destroy that last 
relic of royalty ; another, that Neuilly was already 
half consumed by fire ; a fourth, that all the rail- 
way stations were in flames and the bridges cut 
or destroyed. It was necessary to re-establish the 
trafiic on the roads by which a capital Avith 
1,100,000 mouths was to be fed, and huge moun- 
tains of barricades had to be cut through in order 
to let the convoys pass when they reached the 
streets. Crowds who had been famishing for 
three days were to be fed, the dead vvei-e to be 
collected, the wounded to be cared for, the soldiers 
to be protected against the people, the barracks 
to be evacuated, the arms and horses to be col- 
lected, the palaces and the museum to be protected 
from pillage. An insurgent populace, 300,000 in 
number, was to be calmed, pacified, and, if possi- 



350 DEMOGBACY AND MONARCHY IN FRANCE. 

ble, sent back to their workshops in the suburbs ; 
posts were to be everywhere establiskecl, formed 
of the volunteers and National Guards, to prevent 
pillage. In a word, the things to be done were 
innumerable ; it was hard to say which was the 
most urgent, or where neglect would entail most 
serious evils on the republic." ''^' 

At one time a rumor was set in motion that the 
king was returning with an armed force, and that 
the fortresses in the vicinity were preparing to 
bombard the city with red-hot shot. Under the 
impulse of these terrors the rash crowd in the 
Place de Greve separated, a part setting out in 
one direction for Vincennes, and a part in the op- 
posite for the Invalides. Finding these strong- 
holds protected, they streamed back into the 
Place de Greve. 

The government, to appease the people, had 
already sent the military force out of the capital. 
The mob now had everything its own way. The 
crowd overpowered the door-keepers and sentinels, 
spread themselves through every corner of the 
Hotel de Ville, under pretence of searching for 
concealed arms, and finally inundated the hall 
where the government was in session. There was 
no power to resist anything which the crowd was 
disposed to demand ; on the part of several mem- 
bers of the government there was no disposition 
to resist. It is the testimony of both Lamartine 
and Caussidiere that the decree guaranteeing em- 

* Lamartine, Hist, de la i?e^., vol. I. p. 245. 



SECOND REPUBLIC TO SECOND EMPIRE. 3gX 

ployment to all, and bestowing on tlie combatants 
at the barricades the million of francs saved by 
the termination of the civil list, was extorted 
from the government at a moment when it had no 
power of resistance."^' 

It would doubtless be unfair to demand of any 
government, under such circumstances, that it 
should bring to the solution of the difficult prob- 
lems presenting themselves either the highest 
wisdom or the calmest deliberation. But it must 
not be forgotton that the decrees had, and contin- 
ued to have, all the force of law, and that for this 
reason they are not exempted from criticism by 
the circumstances of their origin. The government 
set to work to carry out these decrees with as much 
vigor as though they had resulted from the mature 
deliberation of the most venerable legislature. If 
they did not belong to the government in the 
strictest sense by creation, they certainly did by 
adoption, f 

The decree which seems to me the most painfully 

* Lamartine, vol. I, p. 245 ; Caussidiere, vol. I. p. 74. 
f I would not have iny readers infer that the government could have 
resisted the passage of the decrees. On the contrary, I think it is cer- 
tain that the decree providing employment saved the government from 
sure destruction. Lamartine had just made his noble and celebrated 
speech refusing to the mob the drapeau rouge. A general tumult 
arose at his intrepid words. While some applauded, others as vehe- 
mently condemned, and several muskets were levelled at him and at 
his friends. The barrels, however, were knocked up by some of the by- 
standers, and amid the tumult that ensued Lamartine was dragged within 
the building. The decree promising work was immediately read from 
the balcony, and the people, satisfied at least in a measure, gradually 
withdrew. — Lamai'tirce, vol. I. p. iJ92. 
IG 



362 DEMOGBAGT AND MONARCHY IN FRANCE. 

absurd is tlie one wliicli declares tliat, "the actual 
gOYernment of France is republican." In no 
modern nation bas there been so great a confound- 
ing of names for things as in France ; and never 
even in France was the absurdity of such a con- 
fusion more flagrant than in the instance referred 
to. The government sitting in the Hotel de Ville 
was as far removed from republicanism as it is 
possible for a government to be. It was absolute- 
ly nothing less than a dictatorship. Eleven men, 
some of them appointed by a mob which had 
broken up the Chambers of Deputies, and some of 
them appointed in the office of a newspaper, ruled 
over the nation for three months with an absolu- 
tism of which it would be very difficult to find 
another example in all modern history. The most 
tyrannical monarch of Asia or Africa would not 
venture on a half of the arbitrary acts which they 
crowded into their reign of a hundred days. They 
dismissed judges who by law were irremovable; 
they added forty-one per cent, to the direct taxes; 
they declared at an end the treaties which were 
the foundation of international law in Europe ; 
they abolished the press and dissolved the Cham- 
ber of Deputies ; they appointed commissioners 
w4th powers as absolute as their own, and sent 
them on electioneering tours throughout the coun- 
try; they altered the hours of labor throughout 
Prance, and subjected to heavy fines anyone who 
should allow his workmen to labor the customary 
number of hours ; they added 200,000 men to the 



SECOND BE PUBLIC TO SECOND EMPIRE. 353 

regular army, and 20,000 to the municipal army, 
with double the ordinary pay; they restricted the 
banks from specie payment, and required of them 
a loan of fifty millions; they conducted them- 
selves, in short, as no government could conduct 
itself, save one which was under no restraint what- 
ever, and which at the same time was working with 
that kind of spasmodic fury which comes from 
weakness and desperation. And this state of af- 
fairs, as absolute as any Turkish monarchy or any 
Venetian aristocracy, they had the effrontery to 
describe in saying that " the actual government of 
France is republican." 

But the decrees concerning the form of the 
government, absurd as they were, were less 
mischievous than those guaranteeing employment 
and establishing the national workshops. 

It would seem to require but the most elemen- 
tary knowledge of political science, to enable one 
to see that such a provision would be fatal to the 
proper equilibrium of national industry. It was 
an assurance to every man that his conduct toward 
his old employes might be whatever he chose to 
make it ; for there was no possibility of his being 
thrown out of employment. It was practically 
proclaiming to every man, whatever be his vices 
or even his crimes, that he should not in conse- 
quence of those vices come to want. It is safe in 
any civilized country to promise that no man shall 
die of hunger or of cold, for the reason that the gift 
of shelter and subsistence may be surrounded with 



354 DEMOGBAGT AND MONABCHT IN FRANCE. 

such conditions, that no man will voluntarily ac- 
cept them. But to promise em])loyment was some- 
thing far different. It was saying to the laboring 
people, " Quit your masters, raise your wages un- 
til they are forced to discharge you : do what you 
jDlease, the government will protect you by con- 
stantly offering the resort of the national shops." 
Lamartine, as he declares, looked upon the Socialists 
with pity, and upon the Communists with horror ; 
but De Tocqueville showed clearly that the 19th 
and 80th decrees, if enforced, must end in the com- 
plete domination of the one or the other. In his 
great speech on the Kights of Labor, the latter ar- 
gued as follows : 

" If the state attempts to fulfil its engagement 
by itself giving work, it becomes itself a great 
employer of labor. As it is the only capitalist that 
cannot refuse employment, and as it is the capital- 
ists whose work-people are always the most lightly 
tasked, it will soon become the greatest, and soon 
after the only great, employer. The public revenue, 
instead of merely supporting the government, will 
have to support all the industry of the country. 
As rents and profits are swallowed up by the 
taxes, private property, now become a mere encum- 
brance, will be abandoned to the stat^ ; and sub- 
ject to the duty of maintaining the people, the 
government will be the only proprietor. This is 
Communism. 

" If, on the other hand, the state, in order to es- 
cape from this train of consequences, does not itself 



SECOND REPUBLIC TO SECOND EMPIRE. 3^5 

find woi-lv, but takes care that it shall always be 
supplied by individual power after the meeting of 
the constituent capitalists, it must take care that at 
no place and at no time there be a stagnation. It 
must take on itself ihe management of both cap- 
italists and laborers. It must see that the mem- 
bers of one class do not injure one another by 
overtrading, and that the members of the other 
class do not injure themselves by competition. It 
must regulate profits and wages — sometimes re- 
tard, sometimes accelerate production or consump- 
tion. In short, in the jargon of the school, it must 
organize industry. This is Socialism." ^' 

Now let us observe what actually occurred. 
Workshops were immediately opened in the out- 
skirts of Paris. A person who wished to avail 
himself of the opportunity offered by the govern- 
ment, procured of the person with whom he 
lodged a certificate of habitation, and this he pre- 
sented to the mayor of the arrondissement. From 
the latter he secured an order of admission to one 
of the shops. If he was received and employed, 
he obtained an order on the treasury for forty 
sous ; if he found them all full and was not em- 
ployed, he received an order for thirty sous, — 
thirty sous per day, for doing nothing. 

The workmen were organized in military fash- 
ion. Every body of eleven men formed a squad 
known as an escouade. At their head an escoU' 
adier^ elected by his comj)anions, performed the 

*Assemblc6 GonsUtucntG Seance die lU. Sept. 1848. 



366 DEMOCRACY AND MOJSfAnCHY IN FRANCE. 

duties of lieutenant, and received ten sous a day 
extra. Five escouades formed a brigade ; and the 
brigadier, also elected by the workmen, received 
three francs a day. Above the brigadiers were the 
captains {chefs de comjpagnie)^ colonels {chefs de 
service^ ^ and generals {chefs d'arrondissemen{)^ ap- ■ 
pointed by the government, and receiving salaries 
commensurate with their rank."^' 

The inducements held out to the laboring-class, 
together with the semi-military organization that 
was at once perfected at the workshops, raised 
these establishments into an importance which had 
not been anticipated. M. Thomas, in his History 
of the Workshops, informs us that in a single 
arrondissement, that embracing the Fauboui'g St. 
Antoine, a single bureau enrolled more than a 
thousand new applicants every day. As early as 
the 19th of May, less than three Aveeks after the 
decrees had been promulgated, the number of ap- 
plications had swelled to 87,942. A month later 
the number amounted to 125,000, — more than half 
the male population of Par is. -^ 

The daily cost of maintaining the shops was 
more than 200,000 francs. All branches of private 
industry were so disturbed, or rather so completely . 
destroyed, that workmen once enrolled could not 
be removed from the lists. The necessaries of life 
arose enormously in price, while all articles of 
luxury fell to a fraction of their ordinary value. 

* Emile Thomas, Ilistoire des Ateliers Nationaux^ pp. 58, 70, and 80. 
t Ibid., p. 376. 



SECOND REPUBLIC TO SECOND EMPIRE. 3^7 

" Nothing," writes Lord Normanby, " surprised me 
more, in the wonderful changes of the last two days, 
than the utter destruction of all conventional value 
attached to articles of luxury and display. Pictures, 
statues, plate, jewels, shawls, furs, laces, all one is 
accustomed to consider property, became as useless 
lumber. The scarcity of money became so great, 
that a sovereign passed for three or four and thirty 
francs." ^ 

Meanwhile crowds of workmen besieged the 
workshops. The applicants had worked at differ- 
ent trades, but, as different employment could not 
be furnished, they had to be set to the same work. 
Nuisances were removed, barricades were levelled, 
dunghills were taken away, but at length nothing 
remained for the enormous multitude to do. No 
one was purchasing more than the absolute neces- 
saries of life, therefore the manufacture of articles 
of luxury was out of the question. Affairs finally 
came to such a stagnation, that " of the 110,000 men 
on ihQ pay-rolls, only about 2,000 were actually at 
work." f 

It was easy to form a conjecture what the influ- 
ence of such an army of idlers would be. Tlie 
finances of the government, though administered 
with rare wisdom by Garnier-Pages, were entirely 
inadequate to the permanent support of the work- 
shops. To pay the workmen was coming to be 
impossible, — to discharge them was to incur the 

* Normanby, Year of Rewlutiom^ vol. I., p. 145, 
f Louis Blanc, Revxie de 1848, p. 04. 



368 DEMOGBAGT AND MONARCHY IN FRANCE. 



clanger of a second Keign of Terror. The govern- 
ment at length came to appreciate the full extent 
of the danger, though it confessed its inability to 
avert it. " A thunder-cloud," says Lamartine, 
'' was always before our eyes. It was formed by 
the ateliers nationaux. This army of 120,000 
work-people, the greater part of whom were idlers 
and agitators, was the deposit of the misery, the 
laziness, the vagrancy, the vice, and the sedition 
which the flood of the Revolution had cast up and 
left on its shores. The Provisional Government 
had created these ateliers as a means of temporary 
relief, to prevent the unemployed work-people from 
plundering the rich or dying of hunger ; but they 
never concealed from themselves that the day when 
this mass of im/perious idlers was to be ?jroken up, 
scattered over the country, and employed in real 
work, must bring a change which could not be 
effected without resistance, without a conflict, 
without formidable sedition." *'' 

The conflict which Lamartine here foresaw and 
predicted was not long delayed in its coming. 
The course of events was what it is always likely 
to be when violent and extreme means are used to 
regulate industrial relations. The nineteenth de- 
cree recognized the right of work-people to com- 
bine, and at the same time it guaranteed employ- 
ment to every citizen. The forty-second j)ro- 
claimed that the Ke volution had been made by the 
people, and for the people, and that it was time to 

* Hist, de la Rev., vol. II. p. 458. 



SEGOJSTD REPUBLIC TO SECOND EMPIRE. ,359 

put an end to the unjust sufferings of the laboring 
population. These two decrees were enough to 
drive the people into desperate measures the mo- 
ment they were convinced the government was not 
fulfilling its promises in good faith. It was, of 
course, impossible for the government to fulfil its 
promises. Then followed the tactics with which 
we have since become more familiar. Unions of 
different trades were formed, committees were ap- 
pointed, strikes were ordered, and the ateliers 
nationaux enabled the workmen to carry their 
orders into execution. Carlier, the Director of 
Police, in his testimony concerning the insurrection 
of the 23d of June, declared that the different 
committees obtained by intimidation the cessation 
of work in the private establishments, and then 
threw the workmen into the ateliers nationaux.^^ 
In this way a stagnation of business was produced 
which immediately threatened the most alarming 
consequences. At length, and before many months, 
too, it became absolutely intolerable, and then it 
precipitated the civil war which the shops had, in 
the first instance, been organized to prevent. 

In the meantime it was becoming apparent that 
a reaction was taking place in the country at large, 
or rather, perhaps, it should be said that the coun. 
try was throwing off its indifference and beginning 
to display a positive hostility to the revolutionary 
movement. As we have already seen, the I'evolu. 
tion was an afPair in which the peo])le of the coun- 

* Enquete sur Vimiirrection du2Sd Juin ct 15d Mai, tome II. p. IG. 
IG* 



370 I^EMOGBAGY AND MONARCHY IN FRANCE, 

try. had taken no part. Tliey had been simply 
reconciled to it by the various declarations which 
had emanated from the capital. They had enter- 
tained no especial attachment for the Orleans 
dynasty, and their taxes under the government 
of Louis Philippe had been unceasingly heavy. 
At the outbreak of the Eevolution they were told, 
and for a time they seemed to believe, that the re- 
publican government would be so cheap that a 
great reduction of their taxes would take place, 
and even at no distant day they would cease alto- 
gether. 

Such were the expectations of the people 
when the decree was published increasing the 
direct taxes by forty-five per cent. It is easy to 
conceive w^th what surprise and indignation such 
a decree was received by the small landed j)roprie- 
tors. The new government had promised a rapid 
diminution of their burdens ; as a fact, it had in- 
augurated its active policy by imposing an addi- 
tional tax of 1'90,000,000 francs. And this burden 
was even heavier than at first it seemed. The pe- 
culiar form in which the tax was imposed aggra- 
vated its weight. While forty -five per cent, had 
been added to the direct tax, the indirect tax had 
been for the most part removed. This latter pro- 
vision was understood to be a concession to the 
commercial interests of the capital, while the 
direct tax fell chiefly upon the small landed j^ro- 
]3rietors, who were in possession of nine-tenths of 
the real estate of the country. When, in addition 



SECOND REPUBLIC TO SECOND EMPIRE. 3^! 

to all tliis, it came generally to be known that this 
formidable increase of their burdens was imposed 
chiefly for the support of an army of a hundred 
thousand revolutionists in Paris, who were paid 
200,000 francs a day for doing nothing, their indig- 
nation was unbounded. They began to see that 
the Eevolution was really in the interest of the mob 
at the capital, and that its whole tendency was to 
the impoverishment and ruin of the small proprie- 
tors in the country. 

So far as mere feeling goes, the reaction against 
the Revolution was complete and overwhelming. 
Nothing but a want of 23olitical means in the 
hands of the people, whereby they might make 
their desires known, prevented the immediate 
overthrow of the Provisional Government. An 
additional tax of forty-flve per cent., even when 
regularly imposed, is a thing which a people 
would submit to with patience only in case of the 
direst and most apparent necessity. That the peo- 
ple of France would cheerfully allow it to be 
added to their already heavy burdens by a com- 
mittee of eleven gentlemen, ap23ointed partly by a 
mob that had broken up the Chamber of Deputies, 
and partly by a Radical Club in a newspaper- 
office, was much more than could reasonably be 
exjDccted. 

The importance of these discontents of the peo- 
ple it is almost impossible to exaggerate. Tliey 
furnish the full explanation of what, to many peo- 
ple, has continued to be a mystery, namely, the 



372 I>EMOCBAGY AND 3£0NABGH7 IN FRANCE. 



rapid change of the government from a republic 
to an empire, and the cheerful acquiescence of the 
great mass of the people in the transformation. 
The change was not so great, indeed, as it seemed 
to be ; but even such as it was, it is hardly strange 
that the new government was more acceptable to 
the people than the old one had been. No change 
could be for the worse; any change, therefore, 
would have been acceptable, — any change that 
promised regularity and stability was especially 
welcome. 

The government at Paris soon found that it 
would be impossible to rule the country without 
the aid of a National Assembly. Accordingly in 
March a decree Avas issued providing for an elec- 
tion and convoking an Assembly on the model of 
the Convention of 1793. It was to consist of nine 
hundred members. It was to be elected by uni- 
versal suffrage and to convene on the 20th of 
April. Immediately following the decree which 
called for an election, it was ordered that all per- 
sons imprisoned for civil or commercial debts be 
set at liberty. 

Before the elections could take place, however, 
it was found that the revolutionary regime had 
become so unpopular in the provinces, that some 
means must be devised by which the sentiments of 
the people could be counteracted. In order that 
this might be done the election Avas postponed un- 
til the 23d of April, and the meeting of the As- 
sembly until the 4th of May, — the anniversary of 



SECOND REPUBLIC TO SECOND EMPIRE. 373 

the opening of the States'-General in 1789. In 
tlie meantime tlie government took tlie requisite 
measures to manufacture public opinion. A cir- 
cular was addressed by Ledru Kollin to tlie elec- 
tors; and four hundred commissioners, or elec- 
tioneering officers, were appointed, with ample 
salaries, to go into the departments and bring the 
people to the desired way of thinking. A re- 
markable circular of the -Minister of the Interior 
was quickly followed by a still more remarkable 
one by Carnot, the Minister of Public Instruction. 
^' The great error," said he, " against which the in- 
habitants of our agricultural districts must be 
guarded, is this : That in order to be a representa- 
tive it is necessary to enjoy the advantages of edu- 
cation or the gift of fortune. As far as education 
is concerned, it is clear that an honest peasant, pos- 
sessed of good sense and experience, will represent 
the interests of his class in the National Assembly 
infinitely better than a rich and educated citizen 
having no exjDerience of rural life, or blinded by 
interests at variance with those of the bulk of the 
peasantry. As to fortune, the remuneration (25 
francs a day) which will be assigned to all the 
members of the Assembly will suffice for the 
maintenance of the very poorest. In a great as- 
sembly like that, the majority of the members dis- 
charge the functions of jurors. They decide affirm- 
atively or negatively on the measures proposed by 
the elite of the nuimbers ; they only require honesty 
and good sense; they judge, they do not invent" 



374 I>EMOCRAGY AND MONABCHT IN FRANCE. 

But notwithstanding these circulars, the com- 
missioners sent back word from the country dis- 
tricts, that the temper of the people was by no 
means encouraging. In some places the agents 
were actually chased out of the villages, — every- 
where they were received with coldness or w^ith in- 
diiference. 

It was thus evident that the rural population 
was strongly, if not hopelessly, in the opposition ; 
but the devices of the government to influence it 
were not yet exhausted. Ledru Rollin issued a 
third address couched in still more violent terms. 
This circular, wdiich was addressed to the commis- 
sioners rather than the electors, is exceedingly 
curious, as it reveals the full extent of the intimi- 
dation and the corruption which the government 
was willing to use. It may be considered as in 
some respects one of the most remarkable state 
papers of modern times ; and if we would compre- 
hend how absolutely despotic it is possible for a 
government professing republicanism to be, one 
should study it sentence by sentence. It was ad- 
dressed, it will be remembered, to the four-hun- 
dred commissioners sent out from Paris by the 
government for the purpose of manufacturing pub- 
lic opinion. It ran as follows : 

" Your powers are unlimited. Agents of a rev- 
olutionary government, you are revolutionary also. 
The victory of the people has imposed on you the 
mandate to proclaim, to consolidate their w^ork. 
To accomplish that task you are invested with 



SECOND REPUBLIC TO SECOND EMPIRE. 3^5 

their sovereign powers ; you are responsible to no 
power but that of your own consciences ; you are 
bound to do what the public safety requires. 
Thanks to your feelings, your mission does not re- 
quire anything terrible. Hitherto you have en- 
countered no serious resistance, and you have been 
enabled to remain calm in the consciousness of your 
strength. But you must not permit yourselves to 
be deluded as to the state of the country. Re- 
publican feelings require to be warmly excited, 
and, for that purpose, political functions should be 
entrusted only to earnest and sympathizing men. 
Everywhere the prefects and sub-prefects should 
be changed. In some lesser localities, the people 
petition to have them retained. It is for you to 
make them understand that we cannot preserve 
those who have served a power whose eyery act 
was one of corruption. You are invested with the 
authority of the executive; the armed force is 
therefore under your orders. You are authorized 
to require its service, direct its movements, and, 
in grave cases, to suspend its commanders. You 
are entitled to demand from all magistrates an im- 
mediate concurrence ; if any one hesitates, let mo 
know, and he shall be instantly dismissed. As to 
the irremovable magistracy, watch carefully over 
them : if any one evinces hostile dispositions, make 
use of the right of dismissal whicli your sovereign 
power confers. But above all, tlie elections are 
your great w^ork; it is they which will prove the 
salvation of the country. It is on the composition 



3^6 JDEMOCRAGY AND MONABCHT IN FRANCE. 

of the Assembly that our destinies depend. Un- 
less it is animated witli the spirit of the Revolution 
we shall advance straight to a civil war and an- 
archy. . Beware of those double-faced men who, 
after having served the king, jDrofess themselves 
willing to serve the people. These men deceive 
you; never lend them your support. To obtain 
a seat in the National Assembly, the candidates 
must be clear of all the traditions of the past. 
Your rallying-cry should be everywhere, ' New 
men as much as possible, sprung from the ranks of 
the people.' It is for the workingmen to continue 
the revolution ; without their aid it will be lost in 
Utopian theories or stilled under the heels of a re- 
trograde faction. Enlighten the electors : repeat 
to them without ceasing, that the reign of men and 
of the monarchy is at an end. You may then see 
how great are the duties with which you are en- 
trusted. The education of the country has not yet 
commenced ; it is for you to guide it. Let the day 
of the election be the first triumph of the Revolu- 
tion." '^- 

These extraordinary instructions were energeti- 
cally carried out. In order to make the courts the 
pliant instruments of the party at Paris, it was de- 
clared that henceforth all judges were to hold 
their positions during pleasure only. The highest 
judicial officers in the realm, namely, the j)residents 
of the Court of Cassation, the Cour des Comptes, 
and the Court of Appeal, were deprived of their 

* Normanby, vol. I. p. 220. 



SECOND REPUBLIC TO SECOND EMPIRE. 377 

positions for no other reason than that they were 
not sufficiently pliant to the necessities of the new 
regime. 

The policy of restraint even went so far as to 
interfere with the quality of instruction in the 
University. In order to make it more completely 
the fountain of extreme political notions, four of 
the jDrofessors in the College de France were re- 
moved, and their places were filled by four mem- 
bers of the government. The number of offices 
at the disposal of the government exceeded 130, 
000, and these were all either changed by the new 
government and the commissioners, or were made 
to conform."^* 

Nor was the government content with sending 
one commissioner to each electoral district. A 
second w^as soon despatched to look after the work 
of the first. In necessary cases a third and even 
a fourth was sent ; and even in addition to all 
these, the clubs of Paris sent out an army of se- 
cret agents to join in the same work, all paid out 
of funds secretly provided by the Minister of the 
Interior, f 

While these extraordinary eiforts to control 
the elections were goiug on, it began to be known 

* The centralization which existed under the republic (which was, 
indeed, essentially the same as that of Charles X. and Louis Philippe) 
is well illustrated by the fact, that the nmnbcr of civil officers amounted 
to the enormous host of 130,000. The number of civil functionaries 
in Great Britain in 1851, according- to Gneist ( GescJdcJit e der EngUscJioh 
Co7nmunalverfassung^ I. 581) was 04,224. According- to the census of 
1870, the United States employs 41,787. 

f AnnuairG lEstorique pour 1848, p. 127. 



378 I>EMOOBAGY AND MONAHGHY m FBAWGE. 



that the government was divided against itself. 
Lamartine and Garnier-Pages appear to have had 
a genuine desire to pursue a moderate course, such 
an one, indeed, as would have been fully satisfac- 
tory to the nation at large. There was a faction, 
however, headed by Ledru Kollin and Louis 
Blanc, which was in the closest sympathy with the 
most radical of the clubs. On all matters of na- 
tional policy, therefore, the government was 
sharply divided. At times this division even 
amounted to most violent hostility. Lamartine, 
and Ledru Rollin were at sword s'-points."^ Lamar- 
tine was popular with the country at large, be- 
cause he withstood the pressure of the radicals 
at the capital ; Ledru RoUin was popular with the 
clubs because he did what he could to further 
their designs, by furnishing them with advice as 
well as with arms and amunition. f 

In the midst of the excitement occasioned by 
these events, the discord was much increased by 
the course which the government took with the 
banks. The industries of the country had been so 
disturbed that the savings-banks soon found them- 
selves unable to pay their deposits. The govern- 

* On the 18tli of Marcli, when the mob was pressing- around the Ho- 
tel de Ville, Ledru Rollin threatened to call upon the people to turn 
his colleagues into the street. lie was only prevented from doing- so 
by the pistol which Gamier-Pag-es presented at his head. — Lamartine^ 
Hist, de la Rev., vol. II. 208. 

f The "Club of Clubs," which took possession of a police-office on 
the Rue de RivoU, was furnished with five hundred muskets and thirty 
thousand cartridges by the Minister of the Interior. — Lamartine^ vol. 
XL p. 351. 



SECOND REPUBLIC TO SECOND EMPIRE. 379 

ment was thrown into extreme embarrassment. It 
was found that nine-tenths of the depositors were 
laborers, while nearly nine-tenths of the deposits 
belonged to capitalists. It was of the utmost im- 
portance that the laborers should be jDrevented 
from breaking out into a second revolution. With 
this necessity in mind, the government issued a de- 
cree setting out with the preamble, that "the 
most sacred of all properties is the savings of the 
poor, and that it is not by words, but by deeds, 
that the government must show the good faith 
with which they meet the trust reposed in them by 
the working-classes." The decree then proceeded 
to declare the suspension of specie payments on 
all sums above 100 francs. Of the 355,000,000 
francs deposited in the savings-banks, only 65, 
702,000 francs could be drawn, while the remain- 
ing 286,.548,000 francs were to be paid in treasury 
notes at par, when they had already sunk to fifty 
per cent, of their nominal value. 

The ill-will that resulted from this manner of 
settlement only added to the intensity of that 
party animosity which was already sufficiently ob- 
vious. A conspiracy of the most alarming char- 
acter was entered into. The Socialists, under the 
iiis[)iration and leadership of Ledru Eollin and 
Louis Blanc, had become so strong that they hoped 
to overthrow the existing government and establish 
a dictatorship in their own interests. A design to 
blow up the Hotel de Ville was only frustrated by 



380 DEMOCRAGT AND MONARGHT IN FRANCE. 

the barrels of gunpowder being discovered a few 
hours before the explosion was to take place. 

The Socialists quarrelled among themselves. 
The movement had been begun with the design of 
making Ledru Rollin dictator; but while this 
leader of the radical faction was preparing the 
way, as he thought, for his own sure elevation by 
secretly supplying the clubs with arms, a design 
was set on foot to destroy his ascendency, and to 
put Blanqui in his place. Ledru Rollin, hearing 
of the turn affairs were taking, repaired at once 
to the " Club of Clubs." A bitter quarrel ensued. 
When the minister finally offered to give his influ- 
ence to the furtherance of their designs, they an- 
swered him in these words : ^' Well, since you don't 
choose to go with us, you shall be thrown out of 
the window to-morrow with the rest. Reflect on 
this ; we are in a situation to make good our 
words." 

Upon this reply, the minister, whose unscrupu- 
lousness was only equalled by his cowardice, made 
haste to inform Lamar tine of what was to occur, 
and then to hide himself away out of danger. 
Lamartine burnt his private j)apers, not expecting, 
as he declares, to survive the day, but determined 
to die at his post. He repaired at once to the 
Hotel de Ville where by accident he met General 
Changarnier. They concerted measures to meet 
the emergency. Twelve horsemen were despatched 
at once to the sub-mayoralties of Paris to summon 
the National Guaid. They were but just in time ; 



SECOND BEPUBLIG TO SECOND EMPIRE. 381 

for it was only as the column of insurgents began 
to fill the Place de Greve, that the soldiers, march- 
ing at double-quick, threw themselves between the 
mob and the Hotel de Ville. Before night a hun- 
dred and thirty thousand troops were in their 
places to protect the government, and the mob, 
estimated at not less than a hundred and fifty- 
thousand, was obliged to disperse. The event is 
of importance as showing the formidable nature 
of the elements with which the government had 
to contend. After the danger was past, Ledru 
Rollin again appeared upon the scene. 

The elections took place in the midst of the ex- 
citement which ensued. The efforts of the Com- 
missioners had been so successful as to j^revent the 
return of all, or nearly all, who did not at least 
profess to be republican ; '^' but it was at once 
found that even among the republicans there were 
two distinct parties. The conservative party em- 
braced all who at heart were royalists, and all 
who, though nominally republican, favored the 
adoption of a policy approaching a constitutional 
monarchy. They supported the Provisional Gov- 
ernment, not because they thought it the best gov- 
ernment, but because they saw in it tlie only bar- 
]"ier between the country and the communists of 
Paris. The democi'atic party, on the contrary, 
favored the adoption of extreme measuref^>. Its 
members were ready to support any action wliicli 

* Lamartine, however, says that in reality it was " noii-v' imhlkaiii 
owpeu repuUicain.^'' — 11. 406. 



382 DEMOCRACY AND MONARCHY IN FRANCE. 

Louis Blanc or Albert might propose. Generally 
speakiDg, the radicals were elected by the large 
cities, the conservatives by the provinces. 

As soon as the Assembly convened, the Social- 
ists and Communists became sensible that it would 
by no means encourage their designs. A conspir- 
acy was accordingly at once formed to overthrow 
it. Such a policy had already been foreshadowed 
before the election, for the Bulletin da RepubliG 
had openly announced the " determination of the 
people of the barricades to annul the decision of 
a false national representation, if the returns did 
not secure the triumph of Socialism." 

And the Socialists were as good as their word. 
Before the Assembly had been two weeks in ses- 
sion, a petition, couched in most imperative terms, 
was presented by a crowd of not less than a hun- 
dred thousand men. The object of the petition 
was nothing short of a declaration of war against 
Germany. 

The Assembly hesitated ; and for two reasons. 
In the first place, France was in no condition to 
war against Germany, to say nothing of the fact 
that such a declaration would be in most positive 
contradiction of the foreign policy which the Pro- 
visional Government had promulgated.''^ In the 
the second place, it was evident that a petition 



* The Socialists clamored for a declaration of war, in the interests 
of Poland and in the interests of republicanism in Germany ; whereas 
Lamartine in his first message had very pointedly taken the ground of 
non-interference in the social affairs of all foreign powers. It is evi- 



SECOND REPUBLIC TO SECOND EMPIRE. 353 

presented by one hundred thousand men in person 
was not merely a petition, but, as Lamartine de- 
clared, a menace. To grant the object of the peti- 
tion was to involve the nation in the greatest con- 
ceivable danger, and at the same time to surrender 
its iron power to a street mob. To refuse it, was 
to incur the risk of destruction. The Assembly 
chose the latter alternative, as was unquestionably 
its duty. A feeble attempt was made to protect it 
by a few regiments of the guards, but it was use- 
less. The crowd without opposition burst into the 
Hall of the Assembly. 

"I demand," exclaimed Barbes, their leader, 
"that a forced tax of a tliousand million franc sh^ 
laid upon the rich, and that whoever gives orders 
to beat the rappel [to call out the National Guard] 
should be declared a traitor to the country." 

" You are wrong, Barbes," cried one of his as- 
sociates; "what we want is two hours of pillage." 

Then one of the most violent of the insurgents 
was carried on the shoulders of his comrades to 
the tribune, where he cried out, — 

" In the name of the people, whose voice the 
Assembly has refused to hear, I declare the Assem- 
bly dissolved." 

The president was dragged from his seat, and in 
utter dismay the Assembly abandoned the Ilall.'"* 

dent that a declaration of war at this time would not only have been 
an abandonment of the principle adopted, but would have been a virtual 
invitation to foreign powers to interfere in the domestic affairs oi 
France. 

* Lamartine, vol. II. p. 425. Annuaire Uktonquc pour 1848, p. 187. 



384 BEMOCRACY AND MONARGRY IN FRANCE. 

Having thus dispersed tlie Assembly, tlie mob 
proceeded, in the customary fashion of Parisian 
mobs, to elect a new Provisional Government. 
Barbes was placed at its head ; Louis Blanc, Ledru 
Rollin, Blanqui, and Leg range were among its 
members. The new government, arranged in the 
course of a few minutes, set out for the Hotel de 
Ville, where a formal installation took place. Its 
rule, however, was but momentary. The National 
Guard, true to its allegiance to Lamartine, had re- 
sponded promptly to his call. A few regiments ar- 
rived in time even to chase the last of the mob out 
through the doors and windows of the Legislative 
Hall ; others advanced upon the Hotel de Ville. 
Preparations for a desperate resistance w^ere made, 
but when the inmates of the building saw that the 
Guards were planting artillery with the evident 
purpose of breaching the walls before an assault 
should be made, their courage gave way. Seventy- 
two prisoners were taken ; the rest escaj)ed from 
the building and fled."^" 

It could hardly be said that the government 
had gained a triumph. It had indeed crushed the 

* The wonderful powers of Lamartine as a descriptive writer are 
nowhere better shown than in his account of this insurrection. I think 
no one can read the pag-es which he devotes to these events (vol. II. 
pp. 440-458) without comprehending- the source of his power over a 
Parisian multitude. Whenever a mob heard Lamartine it was subdued. 
I doubt if any modern orator has understood so perfectly the art of 
pleasing-. He says that when he arrived at the Hotel de Ville, ' ' his 
horse walked no longer ; it was lifted up and carried as far as the court 
of the palace." And yet, but a few hours before, the same mob had 
shouted, '■'Assezjoue de la lyre ; mort a Lamartine ! " 



SEGONB REPUBLIC TO SECOND EMPIRE. 355 

insurrection and thrown some of its leaders into 
prison ; but on the other hand, the mob had suc- 
ceeded in dispersing the Assembly and in giving 
new evidence of its enormous power. It became 
gradually but surely apparent, as these insurrec- 
tions one after another sprang up to defy the gov- 
ernment, that, before there could be permanent 
peace, the power of the socialists and communists 
must be thoroughly broken. Their doctrines were 
in violent antagonism against those of the nation, 
and it became more and more certain that they 
could only be suppressed by force of arms. 

The elections which took place in June showed 
very clearly that the insurrections in Paris had not 
been without their effect on the country at large. 
It was now far more evident than it had formerly 
been, that the nation had no real sympathy with 
the Revolution. The cry for new men, which in 
March had been so j)otent, was no longer of any 
considerable influence. The former repugnance to 
the statesmen of the time of Louis Philippe had 
been swept aw^ay by the rashness of Parisian poli- 
tics ; and for the first time since the overthrow of 
monarchy, some of the best political talent of the 
nation was called forth from its seclusion. Thiers, 
Changarnier, Hugo, Dupin, Mole, Bugeaud, and 
Fould were found to have been elected from the 
provinces, while the chiefs of socialism, Caussidiere, 
Proudhon, Leroux, and Legrange, were returned 
from the city. It was evident that the opposing 
sympathies of <c^ity and country were becoming 



386 DEMOOBAGT AND MONARCHY IN FRANCE. 



more and more intense, and that nothing but the 
very wisest statesmanship could prevent a terri- 
ble struggle between the nation and the metrop- 
olis. 

Even before the new members took their seats, 
the alarming state of the finances began to attract 
universal attention. The bitter truth began to be 
realized, that the effect of the Revolution had been 
not only to increase the expenditures enormously, 
but also in almost the same degree to diminish the 
revenues. Less than three months had elapsed 
since the overthrow of Louis Philippe. The Pro- 
visional Government had opened extraordinary 
credits to the amount of 206,183,035 francs; it 
had cut down woods to the extent of 25,000,000 
francs; it had sold lands belonging to the state 
and the crown to the extent of 200,000,000 francs; 
it had borrowed of the Bank of France 245,000,000 
francs, and now, on the first of June, the Minister 
of Finance found it necessary to negotiate a fresh 
loan of 150,000,000.* 

It was with this disheartening array of figures 
before its eyes that the Assembly containing the 
new members came together. An investigation re- 
vealed the fact that this most disastrous state of 
the finances was owing chiefly to three causes : de- 
rangement of the national industries and conse- 
quent decline of revenues, the great increase of the 
army, and the maintenance of the National Work- 
shops. The army, which had been increased from 

* Annuaire Hihtorique^ 1848, pp. 212, 213. 



SECOND REPUBLIC TO SECOND EMPIRE. 337 

about 300,000 to more than 500,000, could not, it 
was thought, be safely diminished."^ 

The industries of the nation were, of course, not 
subject to immediate legislative control. The only 
point, therefore, at which retrenchment was prac- 
ticable, was the very point which it would be most 
dangerous to touch. The enormous difficulty of 
the situation is seen, when the single fact is men- 
tion that at the national workshoj)s 118,300 men 
were receiving wages, while not more than 2,000 
were employed in any species of work whatever, 
the remainder not only being paid for doing noth- 
ing, but holding themselves in readiness at the call 
of the clubs to overawe or overwhelm the gov- 
ernment.f 

No motion for the abolition of the workshops 
was actually brought forward, and yet it was evi- 
dent that a majority of the Assembly had such a 
movement in mind. Various propositions looking 
to a more profitable employment of the men were 
advanced. Some desired that they should be put 
to work on the railroads: others proposed that 
they should be distributed over the country and 
employed as there might be opportunity. In the 
course of the discussion, Victor Hugo proposed 
boldly to strike at the root of the evil. He made 
no motion, but he expressed the evident sense of a 

* The army was ordered by one of the first decrees of the Provis- 
ional Government, to be raised from 370,000 men to 580,000 ; and 
530,000 were actually enrolled. — Annuaire IIiHtorlque, 1848, p. 123. 

f On the 20th of June, Leon Faucher, chairman of a committee to 
which an investigation had been entrusted, reported that 120,000 work- 



388 J)EMOCEAGY AND MONARCHY IN FBANGE. 

majority of tlie Assembly when he used these 
words : 

"The Ateliers ISfationaux were necessary when 
first established ; but it is now high time to rem- 
edy an evil, of which the least inconvenience is to 
squander needlessly the resources of the republic. 
What have they produced in the course of four 
months? Nothing. They have deprived the 
hardy sons of toil of employment, given them a 
distaste for labor, and demoralized them to such 
a degree, that they are no longer ashamed to beg 
on the streets. The monarchy had its idlers, the 
Republic has its vagabonds. God forbid that the 
enemies of the country should succeed in convert- 
ing Parisian workmen, formerly so virtuous, into 
lazzaroni or pretorians. When Paris is in agony, 
London rejoices; its power, riches, and prepon- 
derance have tripled since our disturbances com- 
menced." ^ 

Such utterances as this, heard in the Assembly 
with evident sympathy, had a definite meaning 
for the clubs and the workmen. They waited for 
nothing more. Brigades of workmen that had 
been sent out, returned to Paris contrary to orders. 
An insurrectionary organization, exactly corre- 
sponding with the brigades and companies of the 
workshops, was rapidly completed. Every leader 



men were daily paid by tlie Grovernment, and that 50,000 more were 
demanding to be admitted to the workshops. — Annuaire Hisiorique^ 
1848, p. 217. 

* Moniteur, June 21st, quoted by Alison, vol. VIII. p. 300. 



8EG0ND REPUBLIC TO 8EG0ND EMPIRE. 339 

had his post assigned Mm. The orators of the 
clubs harangued without intermission. As early 
as the 23d of June, only a few days after the 
speech of Victor Hugo, the erection of barricades 
was commenced, and the work proceeded with a 
system and a rapidity that revealed the most 
thorough organization and the most determined 
spirit. 

Meanwhile the government was not idle. Lam- 
artine fully comprehended the magnitude of the 
difficulties which they had to confront. The mili- 
tary command was entrusted to General Cavaig- 
nac, who saw the necessity of organizing for a 
most formidable conilict. " Do not deceive your- 
selves," said Lamartine to those who viewed the 
insurrection as a mere riot ; "it is not a riot that 
we have to suppress : we have to fight a battle ; 
and not one battle only, but to go through a cam- 
paign against these formidable factions." ■^"' 

In accordance with this understanding of the 
magnitude of the insurrection, the government 
called in the troops from Lille, Metz, and Rouen, 
as well as from the nearer points of Versailles 
and Orleans. On the morning of the 24th, the re- 
volt had become so formidable, that the Assembly 
saw no way of meeting it but by conferring abso- 
lute power on a dictator. General Cavaignac was 
appointed, and within two liours after the action 
was known, twenty thousand men enrolled them- 
selves as volunteers to aid the National Guard. 

* Lamartine, vol. II. p. 473. 



390 DEMOGRAOT AND MONARCHY IN FRANCE. 

During tlie first days of tlie conflict that ensued, 
it seemed by no means certain that the troops 
would prevail. When, at the close of the four 
days of battle, the soldiers of Cavaignac had sur- 
mounted the last barricade, the magnitude of the 
contest for the first time became generally known. : 
The insurgents had been so perfectly organized, 
that they had assumed the defensive in every part 
of the city ; and they fought with such bravery, 
that when driven at the point of the bayonet from 
one barricade, they immediately fell back to an- 
other only to repeat the same stout resistance. It 
is no part of my purpose to describe those terrible 
days. To convey an adequate impression of the mag- 
nitude of the battle, it needs only to be said, that 
the number of barricades, nearly all of which had 
to be stormed, reached the almost incredible figure 
of three thousand eight hundred ctnd eighty-eighty 
and that the number of the dead reached nearly to 
twenty thousand. Ten thousand dead bodies were 
recognized and buried, and it was estimated that 
nearly as many were thrown unclaimed into the 
Seine. It is well to bear the fact in mind, that this 
terrible strife cost France more lives than any of the 
battles of the empire ;— that the numbers of gen-, 
erals, of subordinate officers, and of privates who 
were slain exceeded the number who fell at Aus- 
terlitz, at Borodino, or at Waterloo.^'' 

The brutality of the revolutionists was amply \ 

^ Annuaire Ristorique^ 1848, pp. 247-251. Cayley, European Revo- 
lutions of 1848, vol. I. p. 120. 



SECOND REPUBLIC TO SECOND EMPIBE. 39 1 

revealed by the atrocious barbaiities in which 
they indulged. The excesses of the commun- 
ists of 1870 were scarcely more shocking than 
those of their antecedents in 1848. In one in- 
stance, four children in the uniform of the Garde 
Mobile were seized by the insurgents ; pikes were 
stuck through their throats under the chin ; then, 
suspending them from the windows, the insurgents 
fired under their legs, thinking that the troops 
would not return the fire. Prisoners, when they 
were taken, were shot down by dozens at a time. 
The women, as in 1870, took the lead in atrocity. 
One boasted tha4} she had cut off, with her own 
hands, the heads of five officers who had been 
taken prisoners. Others armed themselves with 
vitriol, which they threw into the faces of the 
prisoners : in some instances burning them so, 
that they begged to be relieved by being put to 
death. The climax of this spirit was reached 
when they cut oif the head of one of the gardes 
who had been taken prisoner, filled his mouth 
with pitch, and lighting it, sang and danced 
around it like a pack of cannibals or Comanches.*^* 
Of this insurrection, perhaps the most formida- 
ble that Paris has ever seen, there were two im- 
mediate results. The first, was the confirmation 
of General Cavaignac as Dictator ; the second, the 
abolition of the Ateliers Nationaux and of the 
Clubs. The remote consequences, as we shall pres- 
ently see, were even more important than these. 

* Cayley, vol. I. p. 121. Normauby, vol. II. p. 74. 



392 DEMOGBAGY AND MONARGEY IN FBANGE. 

As we have already had occasion to observe, 
France had been growing more and more impa- 
tient over the conduct of affairs at the capital. 
Nothing but such an insurrection, and such atroci- 
ties as those of June, was necessary to complete 
the opposition of the nation to the revolutionary 
regime. It became rapidly more and more appar- 
ent that when the nation should set aside the Pro- 
visional Government, it would be to inaugurate a 
strong central power, — one that would be able to 
keep the elements of turbulence in check ; one, in 
short, that would have the characteristics of mon- 
archy in substance, if not, indeed, in form. As 
after the Reign of Terror the people sought refuge 
in the Constitution of the year VIII., a constitu- 
tion which conferred greater powers on the execu- 
tive than those exercised at the present day by 
any monarch west of Russia and Turkey, so, 
after the insurrection in June, it was sufficiently 
apparent to the majority of the legislators of the 
land, that nothing short of a strong central power 
would be sufficient to ensure to the nation that 
tranquillifcy of which the masses of the people 
were in such imperative need. If the Revolution 
had nothing better for the nation than the series 
of insurrections that had followed close upon one 
another in all parts of the country since the abdi- 
cation of Louis Philippe, if its promises of relief 
found no better fulfilment than taxation increased 
by forty-one per cent., and the prospect, even un- 
der this increase, of an annual deficit of three or 



SECOND REPUBLIC TO SECOND EMPIRE. 393 

four hundred millions ; — if such were the benefits 
to be afforded by the revolutionists, surely it was 
not strange that the nation determined to assert its 
authority, and to take its affairs out of the hands 
of the few thousands who at Paris had brought 
about all these evils. In this state of public opin- 
ion it was that we are to look for the proper ex- 
planation of the events that ensued. " What is the 
cause," demanded Odillon Barrot, " of the univer- 
sal uneasiness and perturbation which prevail, and 
the general feeling in favor of a dictatorship ? " 
" It rests," answered he, " on the opinion, coming 
now to be universally admitted, that democracy 
cannot regulate or moderate itself." '^ 

The conviction to which Barrot referred found 
its expression in the constitution adopted in Sep- 
tember. If there had been any way of returning 
directly to monarchy, without placing the nation 
in a ridiculous position before the world, such a 
way would perhaps have been adopted. But such 
a way could not be found ; there was, therefore, 
no more legitimate method in which to express the 
political ideas of the people, than to retain the 
form of a republic and to give to it the essential 
characteristics of a monarchy. I think no one can 
read studiously the Constitution of 1848 without 
seeing that it was not the constitution of a repub- 
lic, but that it embodied all the most essential 
characteristics of royalty. If it limited the ordi- 

* Barrot, Speech of Sept. %lth^ Annuaire Ilistorique^ 1848, 313- 
314. 

17* 



394 DEMOGBACY AND MONABCHY IN FBANOE. 

nary functions of the executive somewhat more 
than the Constitution of the year VIII. had done, 
it opened the way for every manner of usurpation, 
by authorizing an appeal to the people by means 
of t\\e jpUhiscite.^' 

The same general causes which led to the adop- 
tion of the Constitution of the 4th of November, 
led to the election of Louis Napoleon to the office 
of President. As a candidate, he possessed a 
double advantage over all his opponents. He bore 
a name that was held in enthusiastic reverence in 
every household in France, and he represented the 
idea of stability and firmness of rule. It was 
doubtless for his advantage that he had kept aloof 
from all parties during the revolution, for in so 
doing he gave offence to none. When, therefore, 

* If any one doubts tlie correctness of the position here assumed, I 
would commend to his attention the analysis of §§43-70 of the constitu- 
tion, as given by Kaiser in his FranzosiscJie Verfassungsgescliichte Don 
1789-1852. The chapter which he entitles Die wUzieliende Qewalt in 
den Hdnden eines Eiwzelnen^ although it was written, as the author af- 
firms, before the Coup d'Etat of December 2d, clearly pointed out the 
manner in which the president was likely to raise himself to the impe- 
rial throne. In the concluding chapter of the work, the author pre- 
faces what he has to say on the subject with these words: " So liber- 
raschend fiir Viele der Staatsstreich vom 2ten December auch gewesen 
ist, so natiirlich musste ein entscheidender Wendepunkt irgend einer 
Art denen nothwendig erscheinen, welche die Franzosische Verfassung 
von 1848 und die darauf folgende Gesetzgebung naher betrachteten." 
S. 683. The end was even predicted in the Constitutional Assembly. 
" If," said Barrot, " the Assembly now votes one chamber with a de- 
pendent executive, it will restore the Convention in all its ommipo- 
tence ; for the executive power, which the Convention creates, must 
either yield obedience to the mandates of the Convention, or it 
must itself be destroyed. — Speech of Sept. 27th, Ann. Hist.^ 1848, p. 
313. 



SECOND REPUBLIC TO SECOND EMPIRE. 395 

the contest came to be between Cavaignac and 
Bonaparte, it is plain to see why tlie nation de- 
clared itself in favor of the iSTapoleonic reghne. 
The canse of his overwhelming majority was not so 
much that the people had an enthusiastic admira- 
tion of Louis Napoleon as a man, as that they 
found (or thought they found) in his name and 
promises the fairest prospects of stability and 
good order. 

On the subject of the Revolution of 1848, the 
words of no one are entitled to more wei2:ht than 
those of De Tocqueville. Pie predicted its occur- 
rence in a speech which has since attained a Vv^orld- 
wide celebrity ; and he commented upon the events 
which followed it with a wisdom and a discrimina- 
tion that can hardly fail to excite the admiration, 
if not the assent, of every reader. Though a ma- 
jority of the historians of the period have failed 
utterly to detect the true relation of the events 
narrated, De Tocqueville, from the first, saw the 
direction in which affairs v/ere tending, as w^ell as 
the causes of their tendency. On the 27th of Feb- 
ruary, 1849, he recorded his convictions in a letter 
to the English historian, Grote. If the date of 
this letter be observed, it will be seen to have been 
written a little more than two months after the 
election of President Bonaparte — nearly three years 
before monarchy was re-established. A part of 
the letter I have already quoted for another pur- 
})ose, but it is so important that I shall venture to 
repeat it. The declarations which the author 



396 DEMOCRjiOY AND 3I0NARGHY IN FRANCE. 

makes, in tbe first sentences of the quotation, af- 
ford a complete explanation of what to many has 
been a mystery— of the willingness with which the 
coup cVetat and the Empire were accepted. 

" To those,'' he writes, " who are on the spot, 
and who have watched the inevitable progress of 
events, nothing can be more simple and natural. 
The nation did not wish for a revolution. Still 
less did it desire a republic ; for though in France 
there is not a particle of attachment for any par- 
ticular dynasty, the opinion that monarchy is a 
necessary institution is almost universal. France 
then wished neither for a revolution nor a repub- 
lic. That she has allowed both to be inflicted 
upon her, proceeds from two causes : from the fact 
that Paris, having become, during the last fifty 
years, the first manufacturing town in the country, 
was able, on a given day, to furnish the republi- 
can party with an army of artisans ; and, secondly, 
from another fact, which is the offspring of cen- 
tralization — that Paris, no matter w^ho speaks in 
her name, dictates to the rest of France. These 
two facts, taken together, explain the catastrophe 
of February, 1848. 

"The whole of this last year has been one long 
and painful efEort, on the part of the nation, to re- 
cover its equilibrium, and to retake, by the pacific 
and legal means that universal suffrage has con- 
ferred upon it, all the benefits of which it was 
robbed by the surprise of February. Much has 
been said about the versatility of the French. 



SECOND BEPUBLIG TO SECOND EMPIRE, 397 

They are versatile, no doubt ; but, in my opinion, 
they never were less so than during the past year. 
Up to the present time, their conduct has been sin- 
gularly consistent. Last March they rose up as 
one man to attend the elections, and, in spite of 
much intimidation, they elected an Assembly which, 
though favorable to a republic, was thoroughly 
anti-anarchical and anti-revolutionary. In June 
they armed and rushed to Paris, to prevent another 
revolution, even more frightful than the first. Fi- 
nally, in December, they designated their ruler by a 
name, if not monarchical, at least significant of a 
strong and regular mode of government. I, for my 
part, deeply regret this last act, which seemed tome 
to go too far. I did not join in it. I refused to re- 
tain my diplomatic appointment to Brussels. But 
I must confess that the conduct of the nation on 
the 10th of December was not inconsistent. It 
acted under excitement, but in the same spirit 
which governed its actions in March and in June, 
and even in the petty details of every day. And 
now what will happen ? It would be madness to 
attempt to predict. 

" Whatever it may be, we cannot possibly be re- 
j)laced in the position we were in before February. 
Many think that we shall be. But the}^ are fools. 
They think that by tearing out a page of history, 
they will be able to take it up where they left off. 
I do not believe a word of it. The Revolution has 
left, in many directions, scars which will never be 
effaced." ^ 

* Do Tocquevillc, Memoirs and Remains^ vol. II, p. 95. 



398 DEMOCBACr AND MONARCHY IN FRANCE. 

From what has beea shown, I think it must ap- 
pear that the opportunities presenting themselves 
to Louis Napoleon were practically unlimited. 
The instructions of Machiavelli were that " A 
prince who is wise and prudent cannot keep, and 
ought not to keep, his w^ord, when the keeping of 
it is to his disadvantage, and the causes for which 
he promised are removed." ^'' 

The ethics of Louis Napoleon was the ethics 
which Machiavelli thus recommended. He took 
the oath of office when it was required of him ; he 
did not hesitate to break that oath when he found 
"the keeping of it was to his disadvantage." The 
coup d^etat of December 2d was certainly an act 
of atrocious perfidy ; at the same time, it must 
never be forgotten that it was an act for which the 
nation itself was largely responsible. It was made 
possible subjectively by the unscrupulous spirit of 
the President — oJ)jectwely by the traditions of the 
past and the sympathies of the present. 

" How sad it is," exclaims De Tocqueville, " that, 
all the world over, governments are just as rascally 
as nations will allow them to be ! " f 

* " Non pio pertanto un Signore prudente, ne debbe asservare la fede, 
quando tale osservanzia gli torni contro, e che sono spente le cagioni. 
che la feceno Tj^xomettexe.'"— Machiavelli II Principe^ Chap. XVIII, 

f Memoirs and Remains, vol. II. p. 129. 



UNIVEKSAL SUFFRAGE UNDER NA- 
POLEON THE THIRD. 



Schwarz wimmelten da in grausem Gemischj 

Z\\ scheusslichen Klumpen geballt, 

Der stachliche Roche, der Klippenfiscli, 

Des Huminers grauliche Ungestalt, 

Und drauend wies mir die grimmigen Zahne 

Der entsetzliche Hai, des Meeres Hyane. — Schiller. 

11 est trop clair qui'ici le plebiscite, I'appel au peuple, 
r invitation ^ voter sur la forme du gouverenment n' est qu' un 
tour de passe-passe, une pure duperie. — Taine, Du Suffrage 
Zlhiversel, p. 23. 



CHAPTEE IX. 

U]SriVERSAL SUFFEAGE UNDER NAPOLEON THE THIRD. 

UPON no other feature of tlie government of 
Napoleon III. has so great stress been laid 
by his apologists and supporters as upon that of 
universal suffrage. The position has often been 
taken, that, whatever charges may be preferred and 
sustained against the Second Empire, the fact is 
undeniable that the Emperor I'eceived the hearty 
support of the people, — of the people, too, in the 
enjoyment of universal suifrage. Many even who 
themselves have no words of favor for some of the 
features of that government, claim that it was en- 
titled to support on the very principles of repub- 
licanism itself, inasmuch as the result of repeated 
elections showed that it was the government which 
a vast majority of the people desired. In the 
light of such recent authorities as have come to 
us, it may be well to examine the correctness of 
the claims thus advanced. Let us, therefore, first 
inquire into the views of Napoleon concerning the 
political rights of the masses of the people, and 
then try to ascertain how far these views were 
carried out when he came into actual power. 

During those turbulent years which intervened 
between the Eevolution of 1830 and the Gou;p d'etat 



402 BEMOCBAGY AND MONARCHY IN FRANCE. 

of 1851, Louis Napoleon took care that tlie people 
of France should not be ignorant of liis political 
opinions. Scarcely was Louis Philippe seated on 
his throne when the publication of the " Political 
Reveries," embodying Napoleon's " Ideas of a 
Constitution," made the nation fully aware that 
Napoleonism had still a living representative, and 
that this representative entertained definite and 
positive ideas in regard to the manner in which 
France should be governed. One who, at the 
present day, looks over that pamphlet, is surprised 
that it left no more permanent impression upon 
the minds of the French people. And yet we 
cannot help reflecting that, in the days of the 
Republic, when the people needed to know what 
Napoleon had written, there was no freedom of 
the press, and consequently no revelation and dis- 
cussion of the thoughts and purposes that the 
president was entertaining. At the present day it 
is easy to see that the people had, from the first, 
abundant reason to anticipate the ultimate estab- 
ment of an empire ; for, whatever may be thought 
of the means by which the imperial throne was 
set up, it must be admitted that the fact of its es- 
tablishment was entirely consistent with the views 
which, from the beginning of his literary career. 
Napoleon had advocated. In his first sketch of a 
constitution, published as early as 1832, the whole 
scheme of his government was foreshadowed/^' 

* This essay reminds one of the Souper de Beauoaire written by Na- 
poleon I. while he was yet a student at the Military Academy. Both 



TfNIVEBSAL SUFFRAGE UNDER NAPOLEON III. 403 

It may seem at first thougbt the most singu- 
lar characteristic of the Revolution of 1848, that 
the people who had at least interposed no opposi- 
tion to the overthrow of monarchy, were now 
anxious to entrust the destinies of the republic to 
the hands of one who was so pronounced an im- 
perialist. But the explanation of the fact is not 
difficult. I have already shown, by reference to 
numerous authorities, that the people were by no 
means republican in their sympathies. The Rev- 
olution had enormously increased their burdens, 
without bringing them any advantage whatever. 
The country was in perpetual turmoil ; and of all 
things, that which the masses most heartily longed 
for, was the establishment of something like sta- 
bility and order. It should be said, moreover, 
that although the leaders of political opinion in 
France have been exceedingly radical, the masses 
of the people, ever since the overthrow of the First 
Empire, have shown themselves to be eminently 
conservative. Amid all the revolutions and polit- 
ical discords that have distracted the country, one 
feeling has been dominant in the hearts of the 
peasantry, one ambition has inspired them, one 
impulse has directed them. Whatever innovation 
has been forced upon the country, they have ac- 
cepted it willingly, provided it has brouglit, or 
even promised to bring, security to their possessions 

of theso productions, though inherently very unlike each other, 
sketched out with considerable accuracy the courses which their 
authors were in the future respectively to pursue. 



404 IfJEMOGBAGT AND MONABGBY IN FRANCE. 

and their earnings. This fact was the supreme 
element of strength in the cause of Napoleon III. 
He early discovered it, and he kept it constantly 
in view. Of all the Napoleonic family, as Delord 
assures us, this nephew of the first Emperor alone 
had faith in the restoration of the dynasty ; and 
this faith, it might be added, was founded on a 
thorough understanding of the desires and sym- 
pathies of the great mass of the French people. 
Inspired by this understanding of the peasantry, 
and encouraged by this confidence in the future 
destiny of his family, he had no difiiculty in deter- 
mining what course to pursue. It was only nec- 
essary that he should keep himself and his political 
doctrines before the people ; the time would 
evidently come when both he and his theories, if 
acceptable to the nation, would be called into' 
action. He took good care that the necessary con- 
ditions should be fulfilled. 

In the early political essays of Louis Napoleon, 
two dominant ideas prevail: the first, that the 
peoj)le are the supreme authority in the nation ; 
the second, that the reins of government should be 
in the hands of an emperor. Beginning with the 
saying of Montesquieu, that " the people, in whom 
is the sovereign power, ought to do by itself all 
that it can," ^^ he proceeds to show how the will of 
the people has been stified, and how the welfare 
of the nation depends upon its being set free. All 
political power, he argues, must emanate from the 

* Esprit des Lois, lib. II. chap. 3. 



UNIYERSAL SUFFRAGE UNDER NAPOLEON III. 4Q5 

people, and yet, to prevent its abuse, it must be 
under the constant guidance of a controlling band. 
There are two things to be dreaded in France : ab- 
solute power, on the one hand, and the reign of 
terror, on the other. Under the name of Napo- 
leon there is no occasion to dread the latter : under 
the shadow of a republic there can be no appre- 
hension of the former. What France needs, then, 
is a form of government in which the whole peo- 
ple, without distinction, should take part in. the 
election of representatives of the nation. The 
" masses, which can never be corrupted, and w^hich 
can never flatter nor dissemble, must be made the 
constant source from which all power should ema- 
nate." "From the opinions which I advance," he 
says, "it will be seen that my principles are en- 
tirely republican." '"' " If, in my scheme of a con- 
stitution," he continues, " I give preference to the 
monarchical form of government, it is because I 
consider that such a government would be best 
adapted to France ; because it would give greater 
guarantees of tranquillity, greater strength, and 
greater liberty than any other." Again he says : 
"At the accession of each new emperor, the sanc- 
tion of the j)eople Avill be required. If the 
sanction is refused, the two chambers will propose 
another sovereign in his place. As the people 
will not have the right of election, l)ut only that 
of approval, this law will not only prevent the 
inconveniences of an elective monarchy, wliirli ha\'e 

* Life and Works of Louis Napoleon Bonaparte^ vol. I. p. 170. 



406 I>EMOORAGY AND MONABGHY IN FRANCE. 

always been a source of discussion ; it will also 
be a security against political convulsions." Then, 
coupled with these privileges of the people, there 
must be the " right of expressing their thoughts 
and opinions, both through the medium of the 
press and in every other manner ; as well as the 
right of peaceably assembling, and of the free 
exercise of divine worship." 

" No one may he accused^ arrested^ or detained 
except in the cases determined hy the law^ and ac- 
cording to the form.' prescribed hy it. Every pro- 
cedure adopted against a man, except in the cases 
and according to the forms which the law pro- 
vides, is arbitrary and tyrannical ; and he against 
whom it is intended to be executed by means of 
violence, has the right to resist by force." ^'' 

As early then as 1832 the people of France were 
informed with considerable clearness respecting the 
political doctrines of Napoleon. These theories, 
moreover, in the course of the following sixteen 
years, were often reiterated, but always without 
important modification. In 1839, for example, the 
Idees Napoleoniennes presented the same political 
notions in a more elaborate form. This somewhat 
pretentious essay was little more than the body of 
the former one clad in another and more seductive 
costume. The profusion of ornaments brought 
from the glorious days of the First Empire, and 
paraded in contrast with the poverty-stricken de- 
generacy of these latter days, served only to advo- 

lUd^ vol. I. p, 175. 



UmVERSAL SUFFRAGE UNDER NAPOLEON III. 407 

cate a return to the imperial regime^ and to re- 
veal tlie good things in store for the people in case 
they should avail themselves of their legitimate 
sovereignty. 

Again, in 1841, the author took occasion to re- 
vive his favorite theme, and to elaborate more fully 
his ideas of the true sphere of a monarch. Gui- 
zot's History of the English Revolution had just 
been published. It had presented to the public in 
a powerful light the opinions of that eminent 
statesman in regard to what should be the position 
of a constitutional sovereign on all matters of 
national policy. The view advocated by Guizot 
was that which he afterward in the service of 
Louis Philippe so well exemplified, namely, that 
the monarch should be a moderator or manager of 
diverse influences in the state, rather than a leader 
of public opinion. Nothing could be more op- 
posed to the Napoleonic idea of a government. It 
had been no part of the first emperor's policy to 
wait for an expression of popular opinion before 
he took action ; it had been his habit rather to act 
independently of that opinion, and to trust to the 
moral force of the accomplished fact for its ratifi- 
cation. The nephew was no more inclined to fol- 
low the lead of the people than the uncle had 
l)een. When therefore Guizot's history appeai'ed, 
it aiforded the prisoner at Ham an opportunity 
which he was in no mood to neglect. It was nec- 
essary tliat he should keep himself before the 
people, and that the people should entertain Avhat 



408 DEMOCRACY AND MONARCHY IN FRANCE. 

lie believed to be correct notions of the proper re- 
lations of the governing and the governed. 

Both of these ends he did something to obtain in 
the paper referred to. Reviewing the whole 
period of the English Revolution, he had no diffi- 
culty in finding material w hich he could press into 
the service of ISTapoleonism. Guizot had taken the 
ground that the great fault of the Stuarts was 
that they never recognized the spirit of the nation; 
in other words, they set up for themselves an ideal 
of royalty which was utterly repugnant to those 
aspirations for liberty that had now, in England at 
least, become all-pervasive and irresistible. The 
Stuarts, he maintained, should have submitted to 
the inevitable, should have allowed themselves to 
be led in the same manner as the monarchs of 
England are led at the present time. Bonaparte, 
however, arrived at a far different conclusion. 
While he recognized the failure of the Stuarts, he 
saw that they could have succeeded only by adopt- 
ing a method very different from that suggested by 
Guizot. They should have put themselves, not in 
the train, but at the head of the ideas of their age. 
It was the part of monarchy to lead, not to be led. 
The English Revolution should have resulted in 
the establishment of royalty upon a firmer basis, 
not chiefly through the efforts of the people drag- 
ging on the monarchs, but through tlie exertions of 
the monarchs, supported and encouraged by the 
people. " Revolutions conducted by a chief," said 
he, " generally turn exclusively to the advantage 



UNIVERSAL SUFFRAGE UNDER NAPOLEON ILL 499 

of the j)eople ; for to ensure success, tlie chief is 
obliged to give himself up to the national spirit ; 
and to support himself he must remain faithful to 
the interests which secured his triumph ; while on 
the contrary, revolutions conducted by a multitude 
often turn to the profit of the cliief only, for the 
reason that the people think on the morrow of vic- 
tory that their wish is accomplished, and it is in 
their nature to discontinue for a long period all the 
efforts which were requisite to obtain that victory." 
It was in accordance with this general law, argued 
Bonaparte, that the Stuarts failed utterly, and 
that William succeeded. The former made war 
simply to support their tottering power : the latter 
solely to increase the influence of England. '^ The 
Stuarts ruled by means of the crowd, and beheld 
only confusion around them ; William saw the ob- 
ject at once, rushed forward, and drew the crowd 
after him." Finally the prince sums up and 
concludes his essay in this ad-cajjtaiidum man- 
ner : 

" The history of England calls loudly to mon- 
archs, — 

"Maecii at the head of the ideas of your age, 

AND then those IDEAS WILL FOLLOW AND SUPPORT 
YOU. 

"If you march behind them they will dRxYo 

YOU on. 

"If you march against them they will cer- 
tainly CAUSE YOUR downfall." ''^* 

* The Policy of the Stuarts: Life and ITc^r/^', vol. I. p. 549. 



410 DEMOCRACY AND MONARCHY IN FRANCE. 

Thus in the early writings of Napoleon III. we 
find three dominant political ideas. He iiiaintains, 
first, that all political power dwells in the people 
and emanates from the people ; secolidly, that the 
ofiicial to be at the head of the French people 
should be not a president, but an emperor ; and, 
thirdly, that the initiative of all political innova- 
tions should be taken, not by the j^^ople or by 
their legislative representatives, but by the mon- 
arch. 

I^ow in these three propositions taken con- 
jointly, are there nob embodied all the evils that 
came upon France during the public career of Na- 
poleon III. ? They do not, perhaps, embody the 
possibility of his first acquiring power, — that de- 
pended in large measure upon the character of the 
government already existing, — but when once the 
power was in, his hands, did they not open to him 
every possibility of usurpation ? 

It may be answered that according to his " Ideas 
of a Constitution " the people were to have the re- 
served power of a negative upon his acts, and that 
therefore they were always to have in their own 
hands the means of I'estraining him. This answer 
is somewhat specious, and yet it is fraught with 
sophistry and error. In every nation where the 
government alone has the right of initiative ac- 
cording to the Napoleonic idea, the sole power of 
the people is to choose whether to the appeal of 
the government for supj)ort it will say Yes, or 
whether it will say No. All the provisions of a 



UNIVERSAL SUFFRAGE UNDER NAPOLEON ILL 4IX 

constitution, be that constitution ever so compli- 
cated or ever so simple, can, in such a government, 
do nothing more for the nation than to provide a 
means whereby the people may give a categorical 
answer to such questions as the emperor may see 
fit to propound. Under circumstances ideally fav- 
orable an honest expression of public opinion on a 
question so proposed might be secured ; but under 
ordinary circumstances such an expression would 
always be impossible. A political question might 
be made by the authorities to assume a form that 
w^ould be regarded by the people as a new choice 
between two evils. In such a case, whatever the 
merits of the question pending, it would almost in- 
variably be decided in the affirmative, simply by 
that universal disposition of human nature that 

" makes us rather bear those ills we have. 
Than fly to others that we know not of." 

It is readily admitted that such a method of vot- 
ing may, for certain purj^oses, be quite legitimate 
and entirely unobjectionable. Such would gener- 
ally be the fact in all cases where it would be 
equally easy to foresee the results of a negative 
and those of an affirmative vote. But in a nation 
w^here the government alone has the initiative, the 
I'esult of a negative vote can never be foretold 
with any degree of certainty. In a land, too, like 
that of France, where to a large extent the peas- 
antry own their own homes, such uncertainty is 
especially intolerable. Tlie consequence is that 
whenever the French people have been appealed 



412 DMMOCBAGT AND MONARCHY IN FRANCE. 

to hj plebiscite^ tliey have not only in every case 
answered in tlie affirmative, but their majority has 
amounted often almost to unanimity."^'' 

These facts were perfectly understood by Louis 
Napoleon. In his "Napoleonic Ideas" he placed 
these figures in array, not indeed for the purpose 
of showing the only thing which they are capable 
of showing, but in order to convince the people of 
the extraordinary popularity of his uncle's polit- 
ical ideas. It is certain that he was familiar with 
the results of the appeals that had been made, and 
it is impossible to suppose that he had not inter- 
preted their true meaning. No one knew^ better 
than he that the French people, if asked to give 
either their assent to iDifait accompli^ or their dis- 
sent from it, would, in all probability, support it 
with an overwdielming majority. History and 
human nature both pointed to the same result. 
He must have seen, therefore, that he needed only 
to secure a position from which he could appeal to 
the nation. With the sole right of initiative once 
in his possession, and with that almost absolute 
certainty of support which the situation necessarily 

* The following fig-ures will serve to show the force of the circum- 
stances to which I have alluded : 

re,-?. No. 
Constitution of 1791 (not submitted to the people). 

"1793.. 1,801,018 11,600 

" the year III 1,057,390 49,977 

Temporary Consulate 3,011,007 1,562 

Consulate for Life 3,568,888 8,374 

Hereditary Empire (1804) 3,521,675 2,579 

Presidency of Ten Years 7,439,216 646,737 



UNIVERSAL -SUFFRAGE UNDER NAPOLEON ILL 41 3 

secured, there could be no further obstacle in his 
way. 

We have thus seen that the political sovereignty 
of the country would practically pass into th(d hands 
of Napoleon in case of his elevation to power. 
This, however, does not prove that such a change 
would be disadvantageous to the nation. Whether 
it would or would not depends upon the character 
of the ruler and the political condition of the peo- 
ple. If in any given case the masses of the peo- 
ple are so devoid of political ability as to take no 
serious interest in political aifairs, or if indeed for 
any reason they are unable to govern themselves 
as well as they would be likely to be governed, 
the only practical question then is, who should 
govern them? Shall it be a person upon whom 
are imposed certain practicable constitutional re- 
straints, or shall it be one who takes the pov\^er 
into his own hands, leaving with the people only 
so much as they can never use ? There would ap- 
pear to be no doubt that the choice of the foimer 
would always be the safer ; and yet it must be 
admitted that under conceivable circumstances the 
latter might be deliberately and advantageously 
chosen as the only possible cure for anarchy. Did 
such circumstances exist in France? Whatever 
others may think, it is certain that every French- 
man would answer the question with an emphatic 
negative. It would not for a moment be admitted 
that Louis Napoleon was chosen because the nation 
despaired of governing itself; on the contrary, it 



414 DEMOCBACY AND MONARCHT IjY FRANCE. 

has always been vigorously maintained that he 
was accepted as the best means of governing itself. 
He was chosen as President for no other reason 
than because he had captivated the people with 
his name, his ideas, and his promises. 

We have glanced at the fundamental character 
of his political ideas ; it may be well to look for a 
moment at the nature of his promises. 

The necessity of assurances of more than ordi- 
nary force were doubtless apparent to the mind of 
Napoleon. He must have apprehended that the 
nation would not readily deliver itself over into 
the hands of a master, until it was at least con- 
vinced that the proposed master would not abuse 
his power. Accordingly, not only in his essays, 
but also in his letters, we have the most emphatic 
declarations which it would be possible to make. 
In the essay on the '' Extinction of Pauperism," 
which he wrote when imprisoned at Plam, a plaus- 
ible appeal was made to the masses of the nation. 
The author draws a vivid picture of the deplorable 
condition of the working-classes : 

" Industry has now neither rule, nor organiza- 
tion, nor aim. It is an engine which works with- 
out a regulator. It cares nothing for the human 
force it employs, crushing men and. materials 
equally under its wheels. It depopulates the 
country; conglomerates the people into small 
spaces without room to breathe ; weakens the mind 
as well as the body, and afterv/ards throws these 
men on the world, when she no longer requires 



I 



UNIVERSAL SUFFRAGE UNDER NAPOLEON ILL 415 

them, — men who have sacrificed their strength, 
their youth, and their existence to her service. 
Industry devours her children and lives only by 
their destruction ; she is the true Saturn of labor. 
Must we, then, to remedy these defects, place her 
under a yoke of iron, rob her of this liberty which 
is her sole existence : in a word, kill her because 
she is a murderess, without profiting by the immense 
benefits which she confers ? We think it is suffi- 
cient to cure those she has wounded^ and to pro- 
tect her from Avounds." "^^ 

Having thus stated the case, the essayist pro- 
ceeds to show how all the benefits of good society 
might be disseminated among the working-classes. 
There is a great array of figures to demonstrate 
how large a part of the lands of France remain 
uncultivated, how on a sort of joint-stock princi- 
ple the unemployed laborers might be formed by 
the government into afiluent communities, and how 
in this manner " pauperism might be extirpated, if 
not entirely, at least in a great measure." The 
plan proposed was a kind of socialism, exactly 
fitted to captivate that large class of people in 
France which \b ever waiting for some new phan- 
tasm, — the same class which, a generation before, 
had gone into ecstasies over the dreams of Mably 
and Saint- Just. From this presentation of Bona- 
parte's views, the common people had a right to 
regard him as pledged to the rapid amelioration 
of their condition in case of his elevation to power. 

* Louis Napoleon, Life and Works, vol. II. p. 9G. 



416 JDEMOGBAGY AND MONARCHY IN FRANCE. 

But other and more definite assurances were not 
wanting. The numerous letters with which he 
regaled his friends were filled with articles of 
political faith, all teaching and enforcing the same 
doctrine. In public and in private he apparently 
neglected no op|)ortunity to make his views known. 
In September of 1840, when he was brought to 
trial for the afeir of Boulogne, he founded his de- 
fence exclusively on the fact that the people in the 
nation were sovereign, and that in their sovereign 
capacity they had elevated his family to supreme 
political power. That sovereignty, he assured his 
judges, had been consecrated by the most power- 
ful revolution in history. It had expressed itself 
in favor of the Constitution of the Empire 
with suffrages almost unanimous. That grand act 
of sovereignty the nation had never revoked ; and, 
as the Emperor had declared, "Whatever has been 
done without its authority is illegal." 

Here, it will be seen, was an open defiance of 
the authority of Louis Philippe. The declaration 
clearly meant, if it meant anything, that the Em- 
pire was at that moment the legally established 
government in France. To his assertions on that 
point he added these words : 

" At the same time do not allow yourselves to 
believe that, led away by the impulses of a per- 
sonal ambition, I have wished by these acts to at- 
tempt in France a restoration of the Empire. I 
have been taught too noble lessons, and have lived 
with too noble examples before me, to do so. I 



UmVEBSAL SUFFRAGE UNDER NAPOLEON HI. 417 

was born tlie son of a king wlio descended without 
regret from a tlirone on the day when he had rea- 
son to believe that it was no longer possible to 
conciliate with the interests of France, those of the 
people whom he had been called to govern. The 
EmjDeror, my uncle, preferred to abdicate the em- 
pire, rather than accept by treaty the restricted 
frontier, while he could not but expose France to 
the insults and the menaces in which foreign na- 
tions to this day permit themselves to indulge. I 
have not lived a single day forgetful of these lessons. 
In 1830, when the people recognized their sover- 
eignty, I expected that the policy of the following 
days would be as loyal as the conquest itself, and 
that the destinies of France would be established 
forever. Instead of this the country has undergone 
the melancholy experiences of the past ten years. 
Under such circumstances, I consider that the vote 
of four millions of my countrymen, which had 
elevated my family to supreme power, imposed 
upon me the duty, at least, of making an appeal 
to the nation, in order to ascertain its will.'' * 

This address, cleverly compounded of truth and 
falsehood, and spoken in the ears of all French- 
men, when stripped of its conventional circumlo- 
cution proclaimed these political doctrines : The 
people of France are sovereign. In their sovereign 
capacity they chose the hereditary empire of Napo- 
leon as their government, and they have never re- 
voked that choice. That empire, therefore, is now 

* Louis Napoleon, Life and Works .^ vol. I. p. 51. 
18* 



418 DEMOCRACY AND MOWARCRY IN FRANCE. 

de jure tlie government of France, and I am dejure 
the Emperor. That I abstain from claiming the 
imperial throne is not becanse I have no right to 
it, but becanse I have learned from the examples of 
my father and my uncle to practise self-denial when 
the welfare of the nation requires it. 

Now, it is difficult to conceive how any more 
dangerous doctrine could have been enunciated. 
There was embodied in it the perpetual light to 
wage war upon the government for the recovery of 
lost possessions. Under ordinary circumstances 
such a declai'ation would, of course, be of no 
importance; but in view of the dissatisfied con- 
dition of the nation, in view of that great stress 
which Bonaparte had laid upon the sovereignty 
and welfare of the people, by which he had 
already secured great popularity with the masses, 
and, above all, in view of the powerful spell which 
the name of Napoleon continued, to work upon the 
nation, it is strange beyond measure that the dan- 
ger was not more fully comprehended. It would 
seem that ordinary intelligence must have per- 
ceived that there was needed only the factor of 
unscruj)ulousness to make the conditions of every 
evil possibility complete. In case an opportunity 
should come within reach, everything would de- 
pend upon the integrity of a man who had as yet 
given no proof of political virtue, and whose ideal, 
furthermore, was the hero of the 18tli Brumaire. 

Bonaparte did not fail to guard against the 
fears which would be naturally aroused by these 



XmiVBBSAL SUFFRAGE UNDER NAPOLEON III. 419 

various circumstances. His writings abound in 
expressions calculated to allay them. He gives a 
sufficient amount of assurance and expresses a be- 
coming horror of political dislionesty. To tlie edi- 
tor of the Journal du Loiret^ lie wrote from Ham, 
in October of 1843 : 

" I have never claimed any other rights than 
those of a French citizen, and I never shall have 
any other desire than to see the whole people le- 
gally convened, choosing fully the form of govern- 
ment which they might think it best to have. As 
a member of a family which owes its elevation to 
the sufferings of the nation (sic !) I shoald belie 
my origin, my nature, and what is more, I should 
do violence to common-sense, if I did not admit 
the sovereignty of the people as the fundamental 
basis of all political organization." ^'^ 

In commenting upon this letter the editor of the 
Journal du Loiret used these words : 

" It is an evidence of the all-powerful virtue of 
the democratic principle, and it is also an evidence 
of high-mindedness, to see a man of royal blood, 
heir to a throne, a young prince, intelligent and 
proud, popular for the name he bears and the 
glorious souvenirs which that name recalls, thus 
ridding himself of monarchical prejudices, abdi- 
cating the privileges of his race, and paying a sol- 
emn homage to the sovereignty of the people. 
We highly compliment Prince Louis for the noble 
sentiments expressed in this letter." 

* Louis Napoleon, Li^^e and Works^ vol. I. p. 07. 



420 I^EMOCRAGY AND MONAUCHY IN FRANCE. 

Such expressions as these, tliough rather too 
suggestive of Sir Peter Teazle, are of some value 
as showing how the prince's professions were re- 
garded. Strictly speaking, there was at that mo- 
ment no Napoleonic party in France, and for that 
reason, perhaps, the comments of the journals 
should be regarded as reflecting all the more cor- 
rectly the sentiments of the public. 

Again in 1848, when the prince learned that it 
was proposed in the A&sembly to retain the law of 
exile as regarding him alone, he wrote to the Rep- 
resentative Body an appeal, which concluded as 
follows : 

^^ The same reasons which made me take up 
arms against the government of Louis Philippe 
would lead me, if my services were required, to 
devote myself to the defence of the Assembly, 
the result of universal suffrage. In the presence 
of a king elected by two hundred deputies, I 
might have recollected that I was heir to an em- 
pire founded on the consent of four millions of 
Frenchmen. In the presence of the national sover- 
eignty, I can and I will claim no more than my 
rights as a French citizen; but these I will de- 
mand with that energy which an honest heart de- 
rives from the knowledge of never having done 
anything unworthy of its country." ^' 

These words would seem to be sufficiently assur- 
ing, but others were more so. In July of the same 
year, the Prince, then at London, received word 

* Louis Napoleon, Life and Wbrlcs, vol. I. p. 86. 



UNIVEB8AL SUFFRAGE UNDER NAPOLEON III. 42I 

that he had been elected to the National Assem- 
bly by the people of Corsica. It is evident that 
he was hoping for something better. He imme- 
diately wrote to the President of the Assembly a 
letter which is a curious mixture of arrogance and 
humility. After declaring that the same reasons 
which had compelled him to refuse other demands 
imposed upon him the necessity of another sacri- 
fice, he added : 

" Without renouncing the idea of the honor of 
being one day a representative of the people, I 
consider it to be my duty to wait before returning 
to the bosom of my country, till my presence in 
France may not in any way serve as a pretext for 
the enemies of the republic. I loisli that my dis- 
interestedness should prove the sincerity of my pa- 
triotism ; 1 wish that those ivho charge me ivith 
amhition should he convinced of their error. 

" Have the goodness. Monsieur le President, to 
inform the Assembly of my resignation and of my 
regret at not being able yet to participate in its 
labors, and of my ardent wishes for the haj)piness 
of the Republic." "" 

The " disinterestedness " by which he wished 
to " prove the sincerity of his patriotism," appears 
in a strong light when we find that only a few 
days later he wrote to his friend, General Piat, at 
Paris, that, if he were again elected, he should ac- 
cept. This declaration was duly noted, and con- 
sequently in September he was chosen by the 

* Life and Works ^ vol. I. p. 95. 



422 DEMOCRACY AND MONARCHY IN FRANCE. 

electors of four different departments. He deter- 
mined to sit for tlie capital ; and thus the " sacri- 
fice " by which he wished to " prove the sincerity 
of his patriotism," while it deprived him of Cor- 
sica, gave him Paris. 

On the 26th of September, Louis Napoleon took 
his seat in the Assembly in the midst of a scene of 
considerable agitation. He at once mounted the 
Tribune and read a short but carefully prepared 
speech. It was the first official act of his life, and 
was a most solemn profession of devotion to the 
E-epublic. 

" I feel it incumbent on me," said he, " to de- 
clare openly, on the first day I am allowed to sit 
in this hall, the real sentiments which animate, 
and have always animated, me. After being pro- 
scribed during thirty-three years, I have at last re- 
covered a country and the rights of citizenship. 
The Republic has conferred on me that haj^piness. 
I offer it now my oath of gratitude and devotion^ 
and ' the generous felloiv -countrymen ivho sent me 
to this hall may rest certain that they will find me 
devoted to the double task vjhich is common to us 
all^ namely^ to assure order and tranquillity, the 
fi^rst want of the country, and to develop the dem- 
ocratical institutions 'which the people have a 
right to claim. During a long period I could only 
devote to my country the meditations of exile and 
captivity. To-day a new career opens to me. 
Admit me to your ranks, dear colleagues, with the 
sentiment of affectionate sympathy which ani. 



UNIVERSAL SUFFRAGE UNDER NAPOLEON ILL 423 

mates me. My conduct^ you may he certain, shall 
ever he guided hy a respectful devotion to law. It 
will prove, to the confusion of those who have at- 
tempted to slander me, that no mem is more devoted 
than I am, I repeat, to the defence of order and the 
consolidation of the Repuhlicr '^' 

This address was heard with every mark of ap- 
probation and satisfaction. It was almost univer. 
sally accej)ted as a sufficient pledge of good faith. 
In the course of the ensuing discussions on the 
Constitution, it was only at rare intervals that a 
word indicative of suspicion or distrust was ut- 
tered ; and even then assurance was restored by 
the unfailing tact of the Prince. While that por- 
tion of the Constitution which pertains to the 
Presidency was under consideration, Thouret pro- 
posed the insertion of a proviso, that no member 
of either of the families which had reigned over 
France should be elected President or Vice-Presi- 
dent of the French Republic. The amendment 
was opposed by Lacaze and others, who urged that 
it proposed a law of proscription unworthy of a 
great peoj)le, and that the chief of the imperial 
family, against whom the amendment was particu- 
larly directed, had come forward, and from the 
tribune protested his devotion to the Republic. 
This opened the way to the Prince himself, who 
said : "That he was too grateful to the nation for 
restoring him to his rights as a citizen to have any 
other ambition. It was not in liis own name, 

* Life and Works, vol. I. p. 9C. 



424 djbjmochagy and iionabcht ijst fbance. 

but in tlie name of three hundred thousand electors, 
that he protested against the appellation of ' Pre- 
tender/ vvdiich was continually flung in his face." 

"These words," says the -report, "were followed 
by the greatest agitation." Finally, Thouret arose 
and said : " In consequence of what has heen said 
by Monsieur Louis Bonaparte^ I roithdraw the 
amendment^ 

While these discussions were going on, Social- 
ist banquets were taking place in various parts of 
the realm, and the name of Louis Napoleon was 
beginning to be talked of in connection with the 
Presidency. This fact introduced into the Assem- 
bly an instantaneous element of discord. It was 
evident that there were some, at least, who were 
not altogether satisfied with the Prince's fair 
promises as to his future. Monsieur Clement 
Thomas inveighed against the new candidate in 
the most violent terms. In the course of his 
speech he did not hesitate to charge him with 
covering the country with emissaries recommend- 
ing his candidature to the peasantry. Finally, he 
startled the Assembly by declaring : "Loais Na- 
poleon is not a candidate for the Presidency, hut 
for the Imperial Dignity^ 

The instantaneous effect of this prophetic out- 
burst was the suspension of the session, and a 
challenge from Monsieur Pierre Bonaparte ; the 
less immediate, but more important, result ^vas 
another speech from the Prince, containing other 
^^ satisfactory assurances." 



mriVEBSAL SUFFRAGE UNDER NAPOLEON III. 425 

In the meantime Lis candidacy for the position 
of President was declared, and it was necessary 
that he should attend to his interests with the 
people. Accordingly he lost no time in publishing 
an address to his fellow-citizens. He reiterated 
his doctrines concerning the sovereignty of the 
people, the rights of labor, and the relief of pov- 
erty. Then, for the purpose of allaying any 
doubts which might be entertained concerning 
himself and his future, he crowned all his assur- 
ances by using these words : 

^' I am not an ambitious man, who dream at one 
time of the empire and of war, at another of the 
adoption of subversive theories. Educated in free 
countries, and in the school of misfortune, I shall 
always I'emain faithful to the duties which your 
su:ff rages and the will of the Assembly ma}^ impose 
upon me. If I am elected President, I shall not 
shrink from any danger or from any sacrifice to 
defend society which has been so audaciously at- 
tacked. I shall devote ^myself wholly^ without 
mental reservation., to the confirming of a repub- 
lic.^ whicJi has shown itself wise hy its Iccws^ honest 
in its intentions., cjreat and poioerfiil hy its acts, 1 
pledge my honor to leave to my successor., at the end 
of four years., the executive power strengthened., 
liberty intact., and a real pr.ogr ess aGCOinplishedP '^' 

Such were the assurances which Louis Napo- 
leon gave to the French people. I have dwelt 
upon the subject thus at length for the purpose of 

* Louis Napoleon, Life and Works, vol. I. p. 101. 



426 DEMOGRAGT AND MONABGHT IN FRANGE. 

showing not only that the people of the nation had 
every means of making themselves familiar with 
his political doctrines, but also that he was pledged 
in the most formal and definite manner to a given 
line of policy. Early in life he perceived the spell 
with which the name of his uncle bound the mass 
of Frenchmen who had forgotten the disasters of 
1815, and he saw how that spell might be turned 
to his own advantage. He comprehended how, 
under a system of universal suffrage, the peasantry 
would be the governing body, and how, if secured 
in their prosperity, they would always be ready to 
adhere to a strong executive. He saw, also, that 
once in possession of an opportunity, with the sole 
right of the initiative in his hand, there would 
open before him every possibility of power. Fi- 
nally, he did not hesitate to give every possible 
assurance, and to hold out every possible induce- 
ment in order that the opportunity might be con- 
ferred upon him. 

It is unnecessary to comment on the events which 
transferred Louis Napoleon from the President's 
chair to the imperial throne. That they were the 
natural outgrowth of Napoleon's political creed in 
no way detracts from the perfidious villany of an 
act to which it would be difiicult to find a par- 
allel since the days of Louis XL It should, how- 
ever, be borne in mind, that the acceptance by the 
French nation of Louis TsTapoleon and his political 
creed was the practical acceptance of a personal 
in distinction from a constitutional g-overnment. 



UNIVERSAL SUFFRAGE UNDER NAPOLEON lU. 42^ 

No matter what the details of a plan of govern- 
ment may be, if it gives the sole power of initia- 
tive into the hand of a single man, then hedges 
the people about with executive restraints so that 
they can never know whafc the result of a negative 
vote would be, it is not only a personal govern- 
ment, but a personal government of the worst 
form. It is the worst form, because, in addition to 
all the evils which characterize the other species, 
it is a deception and a fraud. It is commonplace 
to say that an evil which is known to be such may 
be avoided or guarded against ; while one that 
ari'ays itself in the garb of virtue, carries with it a 
weapon which it is always difficult and sometimes 
impossible to avoid. Even political poisons are 
not very dangerous if they are properly labelled. 
The very worst feature of Napoleonism was the 
fact that, while it carried in its essential nature the 
ready means of violating any law with impunity, 
it professed that reverence for law as a fixed rule of 
action, both for governments and for individuals, 
without which there can be neither liberty nor 
order. It is probable that neither of the Napo- 
leons would have hesitated to adopt in theory even 
that ideal devotion to legal authority which the 
genius of Plato has so beautifully illustrated in his 
account of the last conversation and the death of 
Socrates ; and yet it would be easy to show that 
in all essential characteristics the Second Empire 
was a government of men and not of laws, of will 



428 I>EMOGBAGT AND MONARCHY IN FRANCE. 

and not of reason, of arbitrary and not of limited 
and legal power. 

The favorite argument of tlie adherents of 
Napoleon has been, that under a system of univer- 
sal suffrage it was necessarily impossible for the 
Emperor to impose upon the nation a system of 
government that was repugnant to the majority of 
the people. It has often been asserted, that, even 
admitting what is said about the servility of 
France in obeying the head of the State, she has 
done it with her own free wiU. After a solemn 
appeal made to the whole population, she chose 
Napoleon as her ruler ; and " she possesses in the 
Corps Legislatif an organ through which her voice 
may be heard, with less chance of being mistaken 
than even the public voice in the Parliament of 
England ; for there the right of suffrage is re- 
stricted to a few, whereas in France it belongs to 
the whole adult male population." In a w^ord, 
whenever it has been asserted that the power of 
Napoleon rested on the bayonet, the reply has been 
an appeal to the testimony of the ballot. 

Now the strength of this argument, it will be 
universally admitted, can be understood only when 
the character of the ballot in France is known. Is 
the ballot, then, a truthful witness ? Is the testi- 
mony which it gives a reality or a sham ? These 
questions can be answered only by an inspection 
of such facts as come w^ithin reach. If it can be 
demonstrated that the people have absolute 
freedom of choice at the elections, the force of the 



UNIVERSAL SUFFRAGE UNDER NAPOLEON III. 429 

argument will have to be admitted; if, on the 
contrary, it becomes manifest that the French ex- 
ecutive exercises such an influence over the elec- 
tions as to make a free choice impossible, the 
position will readily be conceded to have no 
strength whatever. 

Now it requires only the simplest presentation 
of facts to show that the process of elections in 
France under the Second Empire was nothing less 
than a gigantic swindle. It was a mere device 
with which to entrap a people into giving their 
assent to propositions which would not be assented 
to either by lawful representatives or by electors 
in the exercise of absolute freedom of choice. It 
was a palpable cheat, which, but for the gravity 
of its results, would have become a lauo:hing-stock 
in proportion as the facts concerning it came to be 
known and understood. 

The result obtained hy the ballot under the Second 
Empire no more represented the wishes of the 
people of France than it loould have done if they 
had been marched up to the poll under military es- 
cort, and compelled at the point of the bayonet to 
vote in accordance tvith the dictates of the Em- 
peror. 

I have stated the case strongly, and I desire not 
to be misunderstood. I do not here express an 
opinion whether the government of Napoleon III. 
was inherently a good government or a bad one ; 
I only affirm that in so far as it rested for its justi- 
fication, upon universal suffrage, it rested upon a 



430 DEMOCBAGY AND MONARGHT IN FBANGE. 

pretence and a fraud. If there are any wlio think 
that a government can rest upon such a basis and 
still be a good government, to them, of course, my 
argument will have no meaning. Those, however, 
who think that the Second Empire must have been 
a good government because it rested upon univer- 
sal suffrage, should know definitely what univer- 
sal suifrage under the Second Empire was. In 
support of the theses which I just gave, therefore, 
I shall cite examples enough, as I think, to estab- 
lish their correctness. 

It will aid us in our estimation of these facts, if 
we bear in mind one of the important characteris- 
tics of government in France, as distinguished from 
government in England oi* America. In our own 
country we have of late heard something of execu- 
tive interference in affairs of a local nature, and 
yet it must be admitted that the distinctive feature 
of that liberty of which we boast is entire freedom 
from such interference; in other words, is self-gov- 
ernment. Our numerous municipal and local cor- 
porations manage a vast amount of public business 
with as little interference of the executive as would 
be possible if that executive did not exist. But 
the very I'everse of this is the case in France. 
An English writer of learning and critical discri- 
mination has so well expressed this difference, that I 
use his words : 

" The government there, under whatever form, 
whether that of Directory, Consulship, Empire, 
Restoration, Monarchy of the Barricades, Repub- 



UNIVERSAL SUFFRAGE UNDER NAPOLEON III. 431 

lie, or the Army, wMcli is its present phase, has al- 
ways been essentially despotic in its character. It 
has ruled by a system of 23aid em/ployes in imme- 
diate dependence upon itself. The provincial func- 
tionaries, such as prefects and sub-prefects and 
mayors of arrondissements, are mere 23uppets, 
whose strings are pulled by the executive in Paris. 
In no country is the system of police surveillance 
and espionage more thoroughly understood or con- 
stantly practised, l^o public meetings are con- 
vened, as in England, to take into consideration 
the measures of government, and, if necessary, or- 
ganize a peaceful opposition to them. The peo- 
ple are not, except in the solitary instance of drop- 
ping their individual votes into the ballot-box 
when the period of an election comes round, made 
parties to the management of their own interests. 
Hence there is, properly speaking, no public opin- 
ion in France the influence of which can be felt by 
statesmen, and enable them to forecast the meas- 
ures which will be best suited for the wants, and 
most in accordance with the real wishes, of the na- 
tion. Hence also results the startling paradox that 
the French, of all people in the world, are the most 
impatient of constitutional control, and the most 
servilely submissive to despotic j)ower." ■^* 

From the characteristics of the French method 
of administration so well described, it will be seen 
that the executive has at hand the means of exert- 
ing an influence such as it would bc^ impossible to 

* Forsyth, UMory of Trial hy Jury, p. 143. 



432 DEMOCRAGT AND MONAUGEY IN FRANCE. 

exert in a country with a government like that of 
England, or like that of America. The nature of 
this influence it is now my purpose to examine. 

It will be unnecessary to refer at length to the 
plebiscite proper, for the reason that its true char- 
acter is already universally understood. Only in 
irony can that be called an election which merely 
asks the people to say Yea or JSFay to an act which 
has already been adopted with the aid of military 
power. Concerning the other elections, however, 
the case is different. In all constitutional govern- 
ments, even in all governments merel}^ pi'ofessing 
to be constitutional, there are certain questions to 
be submitted to the peoj)le of a nature calculated 
to afford absolute freedom of choice, — questions, 
which present ordinarily a fair alternative between 
two or more propositions, or between two o;^ more 
candidates. It is not universally understood that 
under the Second Empire even in elections of this 
character the same system of fraud prevailed as in 
case of the plebiscite ; and it is for this reason that I 
shall describe, somew^hat in detail, the methods in 
which the elections were conducted. The two ex- 
amples which I have chosen for this purpose may 
be fairly regarded as typical of the whole. 

One of the most characteristically iniquitous 
measures of the Napoleonic regime was that by 
w^hich Nice and Savoy wei*e transferred from Italy 
to France. During the Italian war men were some- 
what curious to know how Napoleon was to be 
rewarded for his service to Victor Emmanuel. 



UNIVERSAL SUFFRAGE UNDER NAPOLEON TIL 433 

Their waiting curiosity, however, was soon grati- 
fied. As soon as it became certain that the issue 
of the war was no longer doubtful, the Emperor 
proceeded to make his policy known. Though up 
to that moment there had been no intimation that 
territorial compensation would be demanded, it was 
suddenly announced at the Italian court that Nice 
and Savoy must be transferred to France, or that 
the French army would be at once withdrawn.^ 

The smaller principalities of Italy had not yet 
given their allegiance to the King of Piedmont, and 
to deny the demand of the Emperor would have 
been simply to abandon all the fruits of the contest. 
Cavour resisted as long as resistance was possible. 
Ideville declares that he gave a formal promise to 
the English ambassador, Sir James Hudson, that 
he would resist the demand to the last, at the 
same time assuring him of his hopes tiiat France 
would renounce its determination. It soon be- 
came apparent, however, that the King must either 
give up Nice and Savoy, or give up all else. With 
this alternative before him, so wise a statesman as 
Cavour could not hesitate. He probably saw more- 
over, that since Italy was obliged to yield, it were 
better to yield cheerfully, so as to conciliate the 

* So successfully had the French g-ovemment masked its design up to 
this point, that the English journals were completely deceived. D'lde- 
ville, from whom a large portion of the following facts are derived, in 
commenting on this point, uses these words: " L'Angleterre n'avait 
pas assez d'eloges a adresser a cette nation gonereuse (France), pleino 
d'initiative, qui seule, en Europe, sachant ' combattre pour une idee,' 
n'attachait do prix qu'a la gloire." — Journal cTun Diplomato en Italie^ 
vol. I. p. 109. 
19 



434 I>EMOCBAGY AND MONABGHY IJST FBANCE. 

good-will of Napoleon, tliaii to incur his displeas- 
ure by making it appaient to all Europe that the 
cession was granted under compulsion. 

It was well known that the measure would be 
extremely unpopular ; and for this reason the nego- 
tiations were carried on with the utmost, secrecy. 
Benedetti, as special envoy, was sent from Paris to 
conduct the cause of the French, and so success- 
fully was the afeir concealed from the other pow- 
ers and from the people of the city, that all the 
details were arranged, and the treaty was actually 
signed, before it became known that a second 
plenipotentiary had arrived.* 

When the details of the Treaty became known, 
an intense indignation on the part of the Italian 
people was at once aroused. This indignation 
would undoubtedly have been overwhelming, and 
would have prevented the ratification of the Treaty 
but for two reasons : first, that there was univer- 
sal and unbounded confidence in the patriotism 
and statesmanship of Cavour ; and secondly, that 
he assured them that the vote to be taken on the 

* The details of this whole affair are given with admirable clearness 
and vivacity by D'ldeville in his Journal (fun diplomate en ItaUe : Turin, 
1859-1862, p. 109, seq. He relates that on the evenmg of March 24th, 
the day on which the Treaty had actually been signed, it was whispered 
around at the clubs that such an issue might in the end be possible, and 
that in consequence of this rumor, the ministers of Prussia and Russia 
came to him with anxious inquiries whether it was true that a second 
plenipotentiary had been appointed and that a treaty was to be signed 
on the 30th ! He states further that they were only anxious concern- 
ing Savoy, inasmuch as Cavour had assured Sir Henry Hudson that 
he would answer any demand for Nice with a categorical No ! — P. 
119. 



UmVEBSAL SUFFRAGE UNDER NAPOLEON III. 435 

question in Nice and Savoy should be entirely free 
( ' 'jt? ienamente liber " ) . ^^ 

These assurances impart an additional interest 
to the facts which I shall now attempt to present 
somewhat in detail. 

By the Treaty of the 24th of March^ then, it was 
agreed between France and Italy that Savoy and 
Nice, " after the population had been consulted," 
should be ceded to France, and that Tuscany and 
the Romagna should also, after a similar '' consul- 
tation," be annexed to Sardinia. It is necessary 
to bear in mind that by the terms of the treaty 
the annexation of these respective territories was 
made indirectly no less advantageous to Victor 
Emmanuel than to Napoleon. With Austria vin- 
dictive and powerful, and in a threatening strateg- 
ical position ; with the Pope outraged and desper- 
ate, and in control of an army which attached to 
itself a large share of the fanaticism of Europe, — 
there was no hope for struggling Italy but in a 
firmer alliance with France. In this fact alone, as 
we have just seen, is to be found an explanation of 
the willingness of the Sardinian government to 
part with so considerable a portion of its territory. 
Reasons enough existed, therefore, why King and 
Emperor were equally anxious that the people 
should vote for annexation. 

The fifth article of the Sardinian Constitution 

* " Lui seul pouvait braver ainsi Timpopularito a, un tel acte, tant il 
6tait assure de la conMance aveugle qu'on avait en lui." — JD^IdevlUef 
Journal, 117. 



436 DEMOCRACY AND MONARCHY IN FRANCE. 

provides that " treaties wMch shall make any alter- 
ation in the territories of the state shall not take 
effect until after they have obtained the consent of 
the Chamber." In view of this provision, it was 
manifestly the duty of the government to submit 
the treaty to the Chamber for ratification before 
the popular vote should be taken, inasmuch as it 
was only by virtue of the Treaty that the people 
would be entitled to vote at all. But there were 
dangers in this method of procedure which the 
Sardinian government did not fail to foresee. 
The project of annexation was not popular in Par- 
liament, — indeed, it was likely to fail. Garibaldi 
did not hesitate to raise his voice, in season and out 
of season, against it ; and, what was of the greatest 
importance, as showing the untrammelled desires of 
the people most affected, every one of the dele- 
gates from Nice and Savoy to Parliament liad 
been elected with the express binder standing that 
they were to jprotest against such a transfer to 
another power. In the short time that permitted 
effort, thirteen thousand signatures were obtained 
to a protest against annexation. In view of these 
inconvenient facts, it was determined to postpone 
a ratification by Parliament until a popular vote, 
unanimous or nearly unanimous, had been secured. 
It seems to have been of no consequence that the 
Treaty, according to which the vote was to be 
taken, really had no existence until it was ratified 
by the Chamber ; it was determined to proceed 
as though it had been ratified, and then to use the 



TimVEESAL SUFFRAGE UNDER NAPOLEON III. 437 

advantage gained by this procedure to secure its 
ratification. 

Accordingly measures were instituted to secure 
such a popular vote as was desired. First of all, 
the Sardinian troops were withdrawn, and their 
places were filled by French garrisons. The op- 
position of the inhabitants of Nice to the transfer 
was indicated by the fact that the troops, on first 
entering the city, were received so roughly that 
they were obliged to resort to the use of the 
bayonet. The municipal junta sent a vote of 
thanks to those members of the English Parlia- 
ment who had spoken in opposition to French 
annexation. The French Consul wrote to his gov- 
ernment, that if a French man-of-war did not come 
to Villa Franca, his own life and that of his 
family would not be secure. After the said ship 
arrived, the editor of the newly established French 
organ, L'Avenir de Nice., was besieged in his 
house and obliged to rush down to Villa Franca 
for refuge."^ 

Such were some of the indications of public 
sentiment at the time when the French garrisons 
were taking their places. It was evident that the 
people were not to be easily overawed. 

But the efforts of the government had only just 
begun. Immediately after the occupation of the 

* I am indebted for these and for many of the following facts to a 
writer in Blackwood's Magazine (vol. LXXXVII. p. 734) who was 
residing- at the time in Nice, and who had every facility for personal 
observation. 



438 DEMOCRACY AND MONARCHY IN FRANCE. 

country by Frencli troops, there was published an 
order transferring the civil government of the 
provinces to France. The French provisional 
governor, Lubonis, made haste to use the power 
thus placed in his hands for the advantage of his 
imperial master, and his example was speedily fol- 
lowed by Lachinal. Many of the mayors and 
local authorities were utterly opposed to the idea 
of French annexation, and without their co-opera- 
tion it was felt that a vote of the people in favor 
of the measure could not be insured. Accordingly 
the followins: circular, filled out as mio;ht in each 
case be required, was issued : 

"THE GOVEENOE OF AFJSTECY, 

" Considering that Monsieur , mayor of the 

commune of , seems not to have accepted fa- 
vorably the consequences of the Treaty of the 24th 
of March last ; and considering that it is important, 
under the present circumstances, to have at the 
head of the administration of each commune men 
devoted to the new orders of things, 

" Decrees, — 

" 1. Monsieur , present mayor of the com- 
mune of , is dismissed from his functions. 

" 2. The municipal counsellor is charged, 

until a new order, with the administration of said 
commune. 

" 3. The above will be transmitted to Messieurs ' 

and , for their guidance. 

"(Signed) LACHINAL, Governor-Regent 

" Annecy, A;pril, 1860." 



UNIVERSAL SUFFRAGE UNDER NAPOLEON ILL 439 

In commenting upon this transfer of civil au- 
thority to the sole interests of the Emperor, the 
French journals gave evidence of abundant zeal. 
One of them, Le Bon Sens^ remarked : 

" A very important thing for the success of the 
great votation, to which Savoy is about to be 
called, is to have at the head of each commune a 
mayor thoroughly devoted to the French annexa- 
tion, for it is he who should give the impulse and 
preside at the electoral operations. A mayor who 
is devoted to Piedmont, or who has a Swiss lean- 
ing, will be altogether out of place on such an 
occasion. We learn with pleasure that a great 
purgation has already taken place in the province of 
Chambery, of mayors, either hostile or suspected. 
We ask all sincere friendo of France to keep a 
sharp look-out upon their communal administra- 
tion. We do not doubt that the governor of the 
province of Annecy Vv^ill be ready, if such is the 
case, to make use of the full powers with which 
he is clothed, to replace in each commune all the 
mayors who will not loyally co-operate in the 
great cause of our national regeneration." 

The military and civil machinery thus in order, 
die authorities now devoted themselves to the more 
immediate work of manufacturing the requisite 
majority. First of all, the people w^ere informed 
not only that they were prohibited from holding 
any meetings to discuss the affairs of Nice, but 
also that no canvassing on the part of those op- 
posed to French annexation would be permitted, 



440 DEMOCRACY AND MOJSfABGET IJsT FRANCE. 

and that no placards or circulars would be allowed 
to be issued by the Italian party. At the same 
time, documents of various kinds were issued by 
the officers in authority, appealing to theii* subor- 
dinates and to the people. The provisional gov- 
ernor, Lubonis, issued a proclamation, of which the 
following is the most important portion : 

" Citizens, — All uncertainty with reference to 
our future has ceased. By the Treaty of the 24th 
of March, the gallant King Victor Emmanuel has 
ceded to France Savoy and the arrondissement of 
Nice. The most powerful motives of political 
necessity, the exigencies of the future of Italy, the 
sentiment of gratitude toward his powerful ally, 
and finally, the exceptional circumstances of our 
country, have decided our beloved sovereign to 
separate the provinces which have been for so many 
centuries intimately bound up with his dynasty. 
But the fate of a people does not rest exclusively 
with the desire of princes. Therefore the magnan- 
imous Emperor Napoleon the Third and the King 
Victor Emmanuel have desired that this Treaty of 
cession should be strengthened by the po23ular 
adhesion All opposition should fall power- 
less before the interests of the country and the 
sentiment of duty. Besides, it will find an insur- 
moimtable obstacle in the very wishes of Victor 

Emmanuel Fellow-citizens, the mission 

which the king has confided to me is transitory 
but important. In order to fulfil my task at this 



UmVEMSAL SUFFRAGE UNDEB NAPOLEON III. 441 

extraordinary juncture, I count upon the support 
of your co-opei*ation, upon your respect for law, 
and upon the high degree of civilization to which 
you have raised yourselves. Hasten, therefore, to 
confirm by your suffrage the reunion of your coun- 
try to France. In making ourselves the echo of 
the intentions of the king, let us unfurl the banner 
of that noble and great nation which has always 
excited our lively sympathies. Let ns rally round 
the throne of the glorious Emperor Napoleon the 
Third. Let us surround it with that same fidelity, 
so peculiar to our country, which we have always 
preserved to Victor Emmanuel. As for this au- 
gust Prince, let us retain among us the worship of 
by-gone memories, and let ns raise earnest prayers 
for his new and brilliant destiny. For the great 
Napoleon the Third, whose powerful and firm will 
is to open a new era of prosperity for our country, 
our inflexible fidelity, as well as our respectful 
devotion, will now commence. 

" Vive la France ! 

'' Vive L'Empereur ISTapoleon IIL ! 

"Z<5 Gouvernenr Provisioned LUBONIS." 

A proclamation similar to that of Lubonis was 
issued by Malaussena, Mayor of Nice ; and, finally, 
the Bishop came forward in the same interest, 
appealing to all loyal members of the church to 
vote for annexation. Nor, indeed, was this all. 
The French Committee sent to all the ofiicials a 
circular bearing the government seal, and appeal- 

19* 



442 BE MO G BAG Y AND MONARGHT IN FBANCE. 

ing for support to all the authorities in town and 
country. Eef erring to the advantages to be de- 
rived from annexation, the Committee used these 
words : 

"We are convinced that the Imperial govern- 
ment will recompense the people for the unanimity 
of their vote, and will proportion the reward ac- 
cording to the good disposition manifested by 
them. Without enumerating here the immense 
and incontestable advantages of every kind which 
our country would derive from its annexation to 
the great French Empire, we consider it our duty 
to address ourselves to all our friends and corre- 
spondents, not only to stimulate their zeal in favor 
of the common cause, and to eno;ao^e them to use 
all their influence in order to ensure the success of 
the vote in the French interest, but also that they 
may carefully watch and point out to us the steps 
that have been taken in a contrary interest by 
those in opposition, in order that the necessary 
measures may be taken to neutralize the influences 
which are hostile to the interests of the country. 
Will you have the goodness, M. , to acknowl- 
edge the receipt of this, and to make known to 
us the spirit of your population, and that of the 
local authorities ? " 

The " necessary measures " to which the Com- 
mittee alluded were amply provided for. A sum 
of money had been placed at their disposal by the 
French government; and of this, it is stated, on 
good authority, that 3,000,000 francs were used 



UmVEBSAL SUFFBAGE UNDEU NAPOLEON III. 443 

in tie. direct work of bribery, exclusive of the ex- 
penses of tlie government, on the clay of voting. 
Drinldng-bootlis and cafes were erected especially 
for the purpose by the officials, and a tri-color 
cockade, or a voting- ticket with ^' Oui " upon it, 
entitled the bearer to the gratuitous enjoyment 
of all their privileges. 

Another device which appealed to the religi>ous 
zeal of the people was that of blessing the stand- 
ards of the imperial party. This official blessing 
of the French flags was calculated to work an im- 
mense effect upon the ignorant and somewhat su- 
perstitious population. The authorization ran in 
this way: 

" MM. les Commissaires will distribute the flags 
which MM. les Cures are authorized and, indeed, 
invited to bless. These standards will be in this 
case presented by the Commune at the head of the 
inhabitants, to MM. les Cures, who will receive 
them at the entry of the church. Finally you will 
understand the importance which I attach to this 
last recommendation. You will take care that 
official proclamations, manifestos, and notices are 
preserved intact. All appeab to the passions, — 
any notice whatever affixed without the required 
authorization, — will be immediately torn down." 

Side by side with this was posted the following 
official manifesto : 

" The Mayor of Bonneville hereby gives notice 
that the Communal Council will assist at tlie ben- 



444: ^EMOGUAGT AND 3I0NARGHY IN FRANCE. 

ediction of the flags wliich the Imperial govern- 
ment has presented to the Commune; that this 
religious ceremony will take jDlace on Sunda}^ the 
2 2d, at seven o'clock, a. m. ; that the cortege will 
leave the Hotel de Ville to go to the church. All 
electors are invited to this ceremony, which will 
immediately precede the opening of the voting- 
urns. In the morning the Hotel de Ville will be 
decorated with the French flag and the national 
colors. All the inhabitants are invited to decorate 
their houses with flags of the same colors. 

" The Imperial government has made its dehut 
by a signal benefit in giving us the customs zone 
which has hitherto been refused. It assures to us 
the prosperity of the country. Its generosity will 
not end here. French engineers have explored the 
province, have begun to study the banks of the 
rivers, the state of the roads, and the public works 
most useful to the country. The numerous mines 
of Faucigny will be w^orked, the condition of our 
college will be improved. Let us show our grati- 
tude to the Emperor. Let us give a free course 
to our sympathies, so long restrained, and prove 
by a compact and unanimous vote that we are as 
much French as our fathers were. 

" Vive I'Empereur ! 

" Vive la France ! 

(SignedJ) " Dufoue, MayorP 

As the day of voting approached, the Central 
Committee issued the following circular : 



UNIVERSAL SUFFRAGE UNDEE NAPOLEON IIL 445 

"Sir, — The Central Annexationist Committee, 
upon whose proceedings no restrictions were 
placed, has named you member of the Special 

Committee for the parish of . You will have 

the goodness, sir, to concert with your colleagues, 

MM. , measures which may unite and bring 

to the poll on Sunday next the greatest possible 
number of electors, and take any steps which ap- 
pear expedient, in order iJiat the vote of the jpojpu- 
lation may he a striking manifestation of its sen- 
timents toivards France and at the saine time 
towards the EmjperorP 

In addition to all the other influences brought 
to bear, the local police authorities openly declared 
that lists of the proscrits would be made out, 
and that those who abstained from voting would 
be punished as soon as they became French sub- 
jects. The same authorities received orders from 
head-quarters, at Nice, to collect the peasants on 
the day of voting and march them into town, with 
drums beating and French flags floating at their 
head. An Englishman, who was at Nice at the 
time of the election, thus describes what he saw : 

"The first object which met my view, as I en- 
tered Nice on the morning of the 15th, was a pro- 
cession of country people marching into town. 
At the head of the procession was a fat cure^ arm- 
in-arm with the village syndic and another func- 
tionary ; behind were thirty or forty rustics, some 
of them extremely drunk, although early in the 



4:4,Q^^^OCJRAGr AWD 3fONARGEY IN FRANCE. 

morning, carrying flags, beating drums, and cheer- 
ing in a maudlin, irregular manner. The streets 
were crowded with persons wearing tri-colored 
cockades and carrying the Old voting-ticket in 
their hats. French sohliers, of whom there was 
a plentiful sprinkling, mingled freely with the 
crowd, although one battalion had been marched 
to Villa Franca, to give the authorities an oppor- 
tunity of saying that, in order not to influence the 
vote, part of the French troops had left the town. 
The urns were placed in the National College, and 
thither I repaired to watch the process of voting. 
The people crowded in and voted with scarcely a 
challenge ; lists of those registered were posted up 
outside; but at first the votes were given too 
rapidly to enable the scrutineers to exercise any 
check. The Oui ticket was distributed freely in 
the streets — men stood at the corners as if they 
were advertising quack medicines, and gave you 
any number of " Owis^^'' but I endeavored both in 
the shops and in the streets to procure a " Non " 
without success. One boor I saw just about to 
vote two tickets. I asked him if such was his 
intention, and he naively answered, ' Why not ? ' 
' Oh,' I said, ' it won't be fair ; give me one,' which 
he most good-naturedly did at once. Another man 
to whom I sjDoke told me that he was strongly 
oj)posed to becoming French — that he had two 
■♦Ijtt sons in the Sardinian service, one in the army and 

the other in the navy ; that he himself was a poor 
boatman, and that he had voted Oui against his 



J 



UJSriVEBSAL SUFFRAGE UNDER NAPOLEON III. 447 

inclination, because the police had told Mm that if 
he did not he would be imprisoned, — that the 
king whom he loved wanted it, — that England 
and all the powers wanted it, and that as for his 
voting in the opposite sense, he would simply get 
himself into a scrape and do no good. But he 
said promptly, 'I have neither cheered, nor will I 
wear a cockade.' As all the scrutineers were the 
nominees of Pietri (the French Agent of Police)^ 
and as they held the keys of the urns, there was, 
of course, no security against any number of Old 
tickets being put into them in private." 

The same witness wrote subsecjuently from 
Bonneville, where he happened to be on the day 
of the voting in Savoy. 

" On the morning of the 2 2d I found myself 
once more at Bonneville in Faucigny ; but a con- 
siderable change had taken place in the aspect of 
affairs since I had left it less than a month before. 
From every house, and almost every window of 
every house, waved French flags. The hotel, 
which had formerly been the head-quarters of the 
anti-French party, and where I had dined with the 
members of the committee, was tricked out in all 
the splendors of red, white, and blue. The book- 
seller's shop where I had heard sentiments strongly 
hostile to France, now displayed a gigantic banner ; 
but more remarkal)le than all, the house of the 
candidate who had contested Bonneville three 
weeks before in the Swiss interest, as opposed to 
the French, was now decorated with French flacfs. 



448 DEMOGRAGT AND MONARCHY IN FRANCE. 

My old friends were nowliere to be found; the 
committee had evaporated, and throughout the 
town where party feeling had recently run so 
high, and anti-French annexation was rampant and 
openly expressed, there was not a syllable to be 
heard against it. A little shopkeeper, whom I 
knew formerly as a furious anti-Frenchman, was 
now with difficulty dug out of his backshop, and 
owned to having just voted in favor of France as 
an act of self-preservation. ' What could I do ? ' 
said he ; Hhe concierge de la ville brought me two 
tickets this morning, with a message from the in- 
tendant that if I don't vote them it will be the 
worse for me. He also asked where my French 
flag was, and advised me if I valued my liberty to 
show one without delay. There is the flag and 
here is the other voting ticket — a similar one I 
have just voted, but this I present to you.' 



'bulletiis" de VOTATIO]^. 

La Savoie veut-elle etre reunie k la France ? 

Oui et Zone.' 

" My informant went on to tell me that every 
voter had received his ticket from the police au- 
thorities, and he smiled when I asked him where I 
could procure a ' Non '-ticket. * No printing-house 
here would venture to print one,' he said ; ' you 
would have to get them from Geneva.' The ad- 
'♦Ijlf dition of the word ' Zone'' struck me as curious, and 

I asked the object of its insertion in the ticket. 
The device was ingenious. The authorities, fear- 



UmVEBSAL SUFFRAGE UNDER NAPOLEON III. 449 

ing that thoiigli the people had not the courage to 
vote Non^ they might be bold enough to abstain 
from voting at all, gave it to be understood that 
such a course would not prevent their being an- 
nexed, but that they would thereby lose their com- 
mercial zone or free frontier with Switzerland, 
upon which their future prosperity would depend ; 
in other words, by voting they would be annexed 
and get their zone : by abstaining they would be 
equally annexed, but ruined. By a recent French 
circular I perceive it stated that the desire of the 
Emperor to carry out the conditions of neutrality, 
as laid down in the 92d article of the treaty, has 
induced him to grant the Zone. It was originally 
invented as an election ^ dodge,' and served its 
purpose admirably, being used either as a bribe 
or as a threat." 

Such were the means by which the hostilities of 
Mce and Savoy to French annexation was con- 
verted into an almost unanimous declaration in its 
favor. Under any circumstances whatever such a 
spectacle of organized trickery would be a painful 
thing to contemplate. It is possible to imagine a 
situation in which the ruler of a country, for polit- 
ical reasons, might submit a question that had 
already been decided to the ratiiication of his 
people, with no other evil result than that which 
might chance to be inflicted upon the people them- 
selves. But in the case of Savoy and Nice there 
was an element in the transaction which made it 
an outrage upon the liberal sentiments of Europe 



450 DEMOGBAGY AND MONARGHY IN FRANCE. 

and of the world. I refer to tlie repeated decla- 
rations that the voting would be perfectly free. 
The first article of the Treaty declared that "it is 
understood between their majesties that this re- 
union shall be effected without any constraint upon 
the will of the people, and that the government of 
the King of Sardinia and that of the Emperor of 
the French will agree as soon as possible upon the 
best means of arriving at and of confirming the 
manifestation of this will." Not long after the 
treaty was formed a deputation from Nice waited 
upon Victor Emmanuel, when he assured them 
" that he had stipulated as a condition of this - 
cession a votation free from any external pressure, 

. and promised that, if a military occupation took 
place, or if the condition was violated in any man- 
ner, he would protest ; " and again, in the procla- 
mation by which he released his subjects in Nice 
and Savoy from their allegiance, he gave them 
this assurance : " Under no circumstances will this 
great change in your destiny be imposed upon you ; 
it must be the result of your free consent. Such 
is my firm determination ; such also is the inten- 

. tion of the Emperor of the French." Finally, in 
the Chamber of Deputies, when the vigorous pro- 
test of Garibaldi seemed likely to put an end to 
the whole transaction, confidence was restored only 
when Count Cavour assured the deputies that 
" the vote should be absolutely free." And yet, in 
view of all these most solemn assurances, what 
have we seen ? Italian troops removed and French 



UmVEBSAL 8UFFBAQE UNDER NAPOLEON III. 451 

troops put in their places ; all the important civil 
offices filled with Frenchmen, or men committed 
to the support of the French cause ; official circu- 
lars and placards advocating annexation scattered 
everywhere, while no publication of an opposing 
sentiment was anywhere allowed ; ballot-boxes in 
exclusive control of French officers; ballots in 
favor of annexation distributed everywhere by the 
police, while ballots opposed to annexation could 
be procured only by sending to Geneva ; priests 
blessing the flags presented by the Emperor, and 
appealing to the consciences of their people in be- 
half of France; money, as well as general free 
living and drinking, furnished by the Imperial 
agents ; and finally, the people, with French music 
sounding and French banners flying, marched up en 
masse to the ballot-box, with priest and mayor arm- 
in-arm at their head. Such was the boasted free 
vote with the sanction and help of which Nice and 
Savoy were annexed to France. It remains only 
to add that these measures succeeded in completely 
converting public opinion. Though at first the 
inhabitants of Nice and Savoy w^ere violently op- 
posed to annexation, they were, by means of the 
Imperial logic, convinced of their error, and conse- 
quently voted almost unanimously in its favor. "^^ 

It should be remembered that under the regime 
of the Second Empire there was no way of irapos- 

* Of 29,142 electors in Nice, 24,448 voted for aunexation, and 160 
against it ; of 135,449 voters in Savoy, 183,53;J voted Yes, while only 
235 succeeded in voting No. — D'ldemlle^ Journal cVun Diplomato en 
Italie, p. 122. 



452 DEMOCBAGT AND MONARCHY IN FRANCE. 

ing any restraint npon the will of the Emperor, 
excepting by means of tho Corps Legislatif. As 
the senators and the counsellors of the state were 
appointed by the crown, they could in no way be 
regarded as in any sense representatives of the 
people, — they were rather representatives of the 
Emperor himself. The possibility of frustrating 
the Imperial will, that is to say, the possibility of 
preventing a pure absolutism, depended solely, 
therefore, upon the character of the representative 
body, while the character of that body depended 
upon the political intelligence of the people and 
the freedom of the election. If it can be shown 
that the elections were not substantially free, it 
will be unnecessary to ask whether the masses of 
the people do or do not possess an unusual amount 
of political intelligence. If there is no opportu- 
nity on the part of the people for a free exercise 
of the political intelligence they may possess, it is 
not too much to say that, for political purposes, 
such intelligence is of no consequence whatever. 
I think it will not be difficult to convince my 
readers that the general elections in France were 
no more free than was the election in Nice and 
Savoy ; no question, therefore, concerning the in- 
telligence of the electors is relevant, excepting, 
perhaps, so far as is necessary to show how the 
farce of the elections was continuously possible."^' 

* It is difficul t for all those of us who are accustomed to think of the 
French as a highly intelligent people, to comprehend the ignorance of 
a large portion of the rural population. If one would get an adequate 



UNIVERSAL SUFFRAGE UNDER NAPOLEON ILL 453 

It is difficult for an American or an Englishman 
to understand tlie political ignorance of the masses 
of the French peasantry ; it is scarcely less so for 
him to comprehend the extreme centralization of 
the government under the Second Empire/'^ I have 

notion of it, one should read the "Madame Bovary" of Flaubert, in 
which the common people of two Norman villages are portrayed. On 
the same subject there is ample food for meditation in the small work 
of Taine on universal suffrage. We must be content to make a few 
extracts : 

" En France, sur cent personnes du sexe masculin, il y a trente-neuf 
illettrees c'est-a-dire ne sachant pas lire ou ne sachant pas ecrire. 
Comrne ces illettrees appartiennent presque tons a la population rurale, 
cela fait dans cette population trente-neuf illettrees sur soixantedix. 
Ainsi, I'on ne se trompe pas de beaucoup si I'on estime a sept sur quat- 
orze, a la moitie du total, le nombre des electeurs ruraux qui n'ont pas 
les premiers rudiments de I'instruction la plus elementaire. Voila deja 
un indice d'apres lequel on pent apprecier leur intelligence politique. 
II m'est souvent arrive de causer avec eux sur les affaires publiques. 
A quinze lieues de Paris, tel, cultivateur et petit proprietaire, ne savait 
pas ce que c'est le budget ; quand je lui disais que I'argent verse chez 
le percepteur entre dans une caisse a Paris pour payer I'armee, les juges 
et le reste, qu'on tient registre de tous les recettes et depenses, il ouv- 
rait de grands yeux ; il avait I'air de faire une decouverte. Apres les 
premiers emprunts du Second Empire, un fermier normand disait a un 
de mes amis, orleaniste : ' Ce n'est pas votre gueux de Louis-Philippe 
qui nous aurait donne de la rente a soixante-sept francs.' Apres le 
covip-d'etat, des cultivateurs me repetaient dans les Amennes : ' Louis- 
NapoUon est tres-riche^ c'est lui quiva payer le gouvernement ; ilii^y 
aura plus dHmpots.'' Je viens de lire la correspondance de vingt-cinq 
a trente prefets de 1814 a 1830; I'ignorance et la crodulito des popu- 
lations rurales sent etonnantes. An moment do I'expcdition d'Espagne, 
des maires vienneut demander au prcfet du Loiret s'il est vrai que les 
allies vont traverser le pays i^our aller en Espagne et laisser en France 
une nouvelle armee d'oocupation. Pendant plusiears anm'cs drnisplu- 
sieursd'partmeiits, aumois de mars, on croitfcrmement qiie NapoUon 
arrive d Brest avec quatre-cent-mllle Am'riciansoii a Toulon avec quatre- 
eent-mille Turcs.^^ — Taine, Die Unioersal Suffrage, p. 1G. 

* In regard to the mtelligence of the people concerning the matters ou 
which they are voting, the same author relates the following : 

" La-dessus, dans les deux ou trois elections qui ont proccdo la chute 



454 DEMOGBACT AND MONARCHY IN FRANCE. 

already referred to tlie general characteristics of 
wliat may be called the French system of admin- 
istration. On the method which prevailed under 
Napoleon III., it is desirable to be specific, and I 
therefore quote the words of his latest and best 
historian. Comparing the administrative machin- 
ery with a polyp having an innumerable number 
of tentacles, this author says : 

" The administrative tentacle begins with the 
prefect and ends with the cantonier; the judicial 
tentacle extends from the attorney-general and the 
chief justice to the village constable and the jus- 
tice of the peace ; the financial tentacle reaches 
from the secretary of the treasury to the collector 
of fines. Without mentioning a number of other 
similitudes, there are without number, licenses, 
customs, imposts, commissioners of roads and 
bridges, with which the polyp enlaces the candi- 
date, strangles him, and suffocates him. Centrali- 
zation is also an intelligent machine, complicated, 
and marvellously obedient to the hand that directs 

du Second Empire, nous avons eu par les enquetes des revelations 
etranges. Un temoin di^ait : ' J'avais les deux billets dans ma poche ; 
mais, ma foi ! bonnet blanc, blanc bonnet, c'etait pour moi la meme 
chose, et j'ai pris le premier venu.' Tin autre, a pen de distance de 
Paris, repondait a un de mes amis : ' Je ne connaissais ni Tun ni 
Tautre ; alors, des deux, j'ai pris le bulletin qui m'allait le mieux a 
Toeil.' C'etait la forme des lettres qui I'avait djcido. Vn troisieme 
i>eut saiioir quel est le hon bulletin ; on le lui dit^ it dci le mettre dans 
Vurne ; le lendemaiii on lui demande ce qu)il a fait de V autre. ' Oh ! 
jE l'ai donn:^ a Pierre, qui est un mauvajs gars ; il a vot^ avec ; 
c'est bien fait, il le merite.' ^^—Ihid. p. 33. 

Could there be a more exquisite illustration of the manner in which 
voting was regarded by the ignorant ? 



UNIVERSAL SUFFRAGE UNDER NAPOLEON ILL 455 

it. There is not a single function pertaining to 
government, even most remotely, whicli cannot be 
included within its gearing: notaries, attorneys, 
bailiffs, clerks, are all embraced. Centralization, 
if it cannot obtain from all these a formal and 
hearty support, imposes upon them at least neu- 
trality."^' 

In other words, if, in our own country, the 
governors of the States, the judges of all the 
courts, the sheriffs, the police officers, the county 
commissioners, the mayors of the cities, the ap- 
praisers, the collectors of taxes and tolls, the 
officers and conductors of railroads, were all ap- 
pointed by the government at Washington, and 
were responsible to that government aJone, we 
should have in form, if not in spirit, something 
like the centralization which prevailed in France. 
Nor, indeed, was this all. M. Delord assures his 
readers that the police officers, as the more imme- 
diate agents of the executive, were specially 
" charged to stimulate the zeal of the local author- 
ities. They were not content to enter into the 
house of the peasant ; they penetrated into the de- 
liberative assembly of the municipal council, and 
openly reproached its members if their zeal ap- 
peared to decline. The commissioner of police 
acted upon the people by a kind of terror. An 
elector of the opposition was traversing a village 
on the Gironde between two gendarmes, and the 

* Delord, Ilistoire du Second Empire^ vol. III. p. 410. 



456 I>EMOGIlAOr AND MONARCHY IN FRANCE . 



'There is 
way 



I i3ar- 
we treat 



commissioner of police cried oat : 
tisan of M. Decazes ; that is the 
them.' " 

The ilhistrations which I am about to present 
are all furnished by the general election in 18G3. 
I have chosen this, not because it differed in any 
essential feature from the other contests of a 
kindred nature which took place under the Second 
Empire, but for the reason that tlie campaign was 
conducted on the part of the opposition with more 
spirit than any other, and that consequently it re- 
veals the electoral system of the country in the 
strongest and clearest light. The facts presented 
are chieily gathered from the third volume of 
" Delord's Histoire dii Second Empire^^ and from 
''''La Lutte Electorale en 1863, par M. Jules 
Ferry." 

As usual, the imperial manifesto which an- 
nounced the coming election, declared that it would 
be free. The j^i'efects were called upon to ad- 
dress themselves only to the reason of the electors. 
M. de Persigny said : " Designate publicly, as in 
the preceding elections, the candidates who in- 
spire the government with the most confidence. 
Let the people know who are the friends and who 
the enemies of the empire ; and let them have full 
liberty to decide as they choose, but let it be done 
with a full understanding of the cause." 

For a government which presents and supports 
a list of candidates, such sin announcement would 
seem to be neither unnatural nor illogical ; but the 



UNIVEB8AL SUFFRAGE UNDER NAPOLEON III. 457 

objectionable features of tile metliocl become glar- 
ingly apparent, wlien we learn that the govern- 
ment not only gave to the people what it called " a 
full understanding of the cause," but also that it 
threatened to withdraw all patronage from those 
who did not accept its conclusions. It was officially 
announced by Persigny himself, that his Majesty 
" could not allow about the electors any but men 
devoted actively and without mental reservation 
to the imperial dynasty." "* Thus in the very be- 
ginning of the campaign every official was publicly 
informed that his continuance in office depended 
upon his devotion to the interests of the official 
candidates. 

In view of these announcements, and in view of 
that system of centralization which brought every- 
thing within imperial reach, the people did not fail 
to see that it was of the greatest importance to 
have candidates nominated by the government who 
would be the least unacceptable to themselves. 
Accordingly, in some instances petitions were sent 
to the government, asking for the nomination of 
certain persons, a method of procedure which in 
itself was a complete abdication of all the princi- 
ples of a free election. As early as August, 1862, 
" L'Echo de Vesoul " contained a petition, in which 
the electors of that district, despairing of being 
able to elect any candidate to whom the govern- 

* II ne pent appuyer auprcs des clectcnrs quo dcs hommes dcvouos 
sans reserve et sans auriore-pcusoe a la dynastic impuriale ct a nos in- 
stitutions. 

20 



458 I>EMOGIiAGY AND MONARCHT IN FRANCE. 

ment was opposed, |)rayed tlie Minister of the 
Interior to have the goodness to designate for 
their suffrages the candidature of M. de La 
Vallette. 

In due time the prefects of the departments 
announced the candidates, at the same time declar- 
ing that no public discussion of their merits would 
be allowed. The following extract from a dis- 
course addressed to the electors of the Haute- Loire 
by the prefect of that department, will serve as 
an example of the way in which all free choice of 
candidates, as well as all discussion of their merits, 
was prevented : 

" Under the last government, the electors, to 
supply the place of a general direction, which then 
they did not have, resorted to preliminary meet- 
ings, where the candidates declared their principles 
and submitted themselves to the choice of the 
people for nomination or rejection. To-day the 
administration fills, so to speak, the office of the 
preliminary meetings. We, the administrators, 
disinterested in the question, and representing only 
your collective interests, examine, appreciate, and 
judge of the candidates who are presented. After 
a full investigation {inur exanien\ with the sanc- 
tion of the government, we present to you the one 
who unites in himself the most sympathies, not as 
the result of our will, and still less of a caprice, 
but as the proper expression of your suffrages, and 
of your sympathies." 

Numerous citations like this might be given to 



XrmVEJRSAL SUFFRAGE UNDER NAPOLEON III. 459 

show how completely tlie official candidates were 
tlie representativ^es of the Emperor. In all cases 
the Emperor chose the prefect, and the prefect, 
after conferring with the Emperor, nominated the 
candidate. To call the deputies who reached the 
Corps Legislatif by such means, representatives 
of the people, is sheer absurdity. It is not so 
difficult to understand how Napoleon was willing 
to resort to such a system of duplicity, as it is to 
comprehend how an enlightened nation failed to 
be shocked and outraged by its application. 

No sooner were the candidates in the field than 
the contest began. The overwhelming odds in 
favor of the official candidates now began to be 
seen. With free speech and a free press, the can- 
didates of the people could at least have made a 
vigorous struggle ; but with both of these agents 
taken away they are literally bound and gagged. 
Writing of this very election, M. Delord assures 
us that '^ the journals of the opposition had been 
killed almost everywhere, and there remained in 
each prefecture only such as were sustained by 
the government by means of secret subsidies and 
the judicial announcements." ''^ As has already 

* The Emnement appeared yesterday before the court of assize of the 
Seine, presided over by M. Perrot de Chezelles. The Eve nement wa,s 
suspended. The responsible editor was condemned to nine months im- 
prisonment, and 3,000 francs fine. The author of the article, M. F. 
Victor Hugo, was condemned to 2,000 francs fine, and nine months 
imprisonment. The Evinement will have four of its editors in prison. 
Where will the government stop in this path? It will not stop,— it 
cannot. The Rrforme has been condemned ; the Pcuple has been con- 
demned ; the Vote Universd has been condemned ; the Fressc has been 



460 J^EMOOBACY AND MONARCHY IN FRANCE. 

been shown, the general government at the very 
outset had prohibited meetings for the discussion 
of political topics. There remained, therefore, for 
the non-official candidates, none of the ordinary 
methods of publishing their views. They had sole 
recourse to the mails and to placards ; and even 
these methods were constantly interfered with. 
The prefect, if he deemed it necessary, did not 
even shrink from interfering with the ordinary 
functions of the post in order to rob it of any 
hostile material. Just before the election, the 
suburbs of Grenoble, containing twenty-live thou- 
sand inhabitants, were deprived of all postal com- 
munication during twenty -four hours, for the sole 
purpose of allowing a vigorous and concerted 
attack to be made upon the opposition candidate, 
at a moment when it was impossible for him to 
defend himself. Scarcely was an opposition can- 
didate announced, when the attacks of the official 
organs began. If he happened to reside in the 
district which he hoped to represent, both he and 
his family were placed under a surveillance which 
made their sojourn sometimes impossible. They 
were attacked with a bitter ferocity by the official 
journals of the locality. The candidate naturally 
felt the need of replying, and accordingly sought 

condemned ; the Siecle has been condemned ; the R'ipuUique has been 
condemned ; the AssemUee National only escaped condemnation by 
submission. And then came the turn of the National^ of the Ordre^ of 
the Gazette de France^ of the Jour Jial des D-jbats, and of the Union.'''' 
Quoted from " La Presse^^ by Forsyth, '■'■History of Trial by Jury,''"' p. 
361. 



UmVEB8AL SUFFRAGE UNDER NAPOLEON III. 451 

for a printer. If there happened to be two presses 
in the place, one of them was generally under the 
patronage of the prefect, and the other under that 
of the bishop. If by a rare chance one was found 
who claimed to be independent of these f anction- 
aries, he was still obliged to acknowledge his 
subordination to the laws for the control of the 
press, — laws by which his office could be closed 
at any moment. 

But suppose, as it sometimes happened, that the 
candidate, by dint of management and the free use 
of money, surmounted all these obstacles. Three 
methods of distributing his documents were open 
to him: they could be committed to the mails; 
they could be distributed by hand in the street and 
at the places of resort ; they could be put up as 
placards. Suppose that the candidate entrusts his 
fortunes to the post-office. One of two things was 
likely to happen : either the mass of his circulars 
found their way into the sewers, or, if they reached 
their destination, each one was accompanied with 
an official rejoinder. ^' Sometimes the candidate 
determined to rely chiefly or solely upon placards. 
In every French village the bill-poster is an official 
who depends upon the authorities for his position ; 
it therefore requires more than ordinary courage in 

* " On n'entendait parler de tous cotes dans les temps d' election quo 
de bulletins en retard, de circulaires eg-asees, voir mume d'ccrits clec- 
toraux jetca dans les cgouts. Les pacquets assivaient quelqviefois, 
mais, par un prodige singulier, entre chaque circulaire du candidat 
independent s'etait glissee uue circulaire du candidat officiel, et entre 
chaque bulletin libre un bulletin estampillc." — Belord, III. 407. 



462 DEMOGBAGY AND MOJSfARGHT m FBANGE. 



^ 



ai] afficlieur to lead him to post tlie affiche of tlie 
independent candidate by the side of tliat of liis 
opponent. Both in 1859 and 1863, it happened 
that candidates were reduced to the actual neces- 
sity of arming themselves with pincers and paste- 
pot, and putting up their own placards. 

M. Clapier, a candidate in les Bouches-de-E>hone, 
with some faithful adherents spent the greater part 
of a night in flitting along the walls and dark cor- 
ners of the city, and sticking up posters with their 
own hands. Imagine his estimate of the freedom 
of elections in France, when the next morning he 
found his bills covered with those of the emperor. 

Another candidate, M. Aristide Dumont, of 
Noyen, more bold than his fellows, ventured to 
complain to the authorities when he found that his 
230sters were destroyed as fast as he could put them 
up. His zeal subsided, however, when he was in- 
formed that, although there was indeed a law 
against the mutilation of posters, all complaints 
for violation of that law must be made by the 
administration itself. Thus it turned out that 
whether a man could be punished for destroying a 
placard depended upon the action of an imperial 
officer, and whether that officer would act depended 
upon the nature of the placard destroyed. 

But there was one other method open to the can- 
didate, namely, the distribution of documents at 
the hands of his personal friends. This service, 
however, required something of the spirit of a hero 
and martyr. The distributers were constantly as- 



UmVEB8AL SUFFRAGE UNDER NAPOLEON III. 4^3 

sailed by the jeers and threats, and sometimes even 
by the blows of the officials. Commissioners, 
mayors, gendarmes, gardes chamjpHre^ and gardes 
des cantonniers beset them at all points, and any 
considerable success was impossible. There are a 
number of authenticated instances where persons 
caught in this service were seized, and deprived of 
their liberty until after the election. 

While these difficulties were besetting the non- 
official candidates, the candidates of the govern- 
ment held undisturbed possession of the field. 
Their posters everywhere decorated the walls of 
buildings, the trunks of trees, and the sign-posts at 
the cross-roads. The mails did for them faithful 
service, and the telegraph, which could never with 
safety be used by the opposition, was their ready 
and faithful messenger. The candidates themselves 
travelled from place to place in state, supported 
and protected by a retinue of officials. These lat- 
ter never hesitated to take any advantage of their 
peculiar positions in order to accomplish their pur- 
poses. Even the inspectors of schools required 
of teachers not simply a passive but an active 
support of the official candidates.'^ So much for 

* Numerous examples in support of this statement might be given. 
The Inspector of the Acadcmie de la Cote d'Or wrote to tho teachers : 
" Combattre les candidatures administratives, c'cst combattre I'Empe- 
reur lui-mCme. En adopter et en patroner d'autres, c'est cgah'meut 
servir et recruiter centre lui. Ne ^?as les combattre^ mats aussl ne j^as 
les sout.'nir, c'cst Vabanclonner, e^est Tester Varme au -pied dans la hataille. 
Votre indifflrence me caaseraii de la surprise et du regret, votre JmstlUte 
serait d mes yeux une lacliette coupablo et sans exmise^ The Inspector 
of the Academic desVosges wrote to the teachers under his supervision 
in a similar strain. — Delord. III. 409. 



464 DEMOGRAGY AND MONABGHT m FRANGE. 

what may be called the machinery of the campaign ; 
let us now look at the means by which it was oper^ 
ated. 

Under the system of centralization of which I 
have already spoken, all the public authority of a 
given district was under the control and direction 
of the prefect. Delord assures us that even the 
justice of the peace was his docile servant. If an 
elector originated or circulated any report injurious 
to the official candidate, the commissioner of police 
was directed to cause his arrest, and he was at once 
imprisoned. In such cases it was not even claimed 
that false charges were made ; it was enough that 
they were injurious, — une propagande gi^^iante be- 
ing the usual expression. In vain did the non-offi- 
cial candidate offer bail for the good conduct and 
the appearance at trial of the accused ; the pris- 
oner was held until after the election, when he was 
generally dismissed without trial. In one instance, 
where the accused was no less a person than the 
municipal counsellor of Sainte-Foix, the prisoner 
was released on satisfactory assurance that he 
would leave the commune, and would not return 
until after the result of the election should have 
been declared. 

The mayors of the cities were no less zealous 
than the justices of the peace. The manner in 
which they Avere expected to perform their duties 
may be judged of by the mandate of the prefect 
of La Manche, which is given merely as a sample 
of its kind. " Gentlemen," said he to the mayors 



UNIVERSAL SUFFRAGE UNDER NAPOLEON TIL 4(35 

of Ms province, ^' if you do not expect to vote for 
tlie official candidate, resign your scarf the day be- 
fore election, in order that it may not be taken 
away from you the day after." Perhaps the threat 
was hardly needed ; at any rate, there was no hes- 
itation on the part of the mayors in making them- 
selves the most active agents of the official candi- 
date. The mayor of Ouistreham appealed to his 
people in these terms : " Inhabitants of Ouistre- 
ham, agents who are paid for so doing, boast of be- 
ing able to make you vote against the candidate of 
the government. I know your spirit too well to 
believe that you will allow yourselves to be influ- 
enced by any means whatever. Here you have 
but one sincere friend, and that is I ! And when 
I say to you : Vote for Monsieur Bertrand, it is 
because this vote is in your dearest interests ! " 
The mayor of Jonvelle warned the electors of his 
precinct that the opposition candidate. Monsieur 
d'Andelarre, was " the protector of the party of 
the nobility and the clergy — the party which 
wished to see again such times as those seen when 
our grandfathers were obliged in turn to beat the 
water and thus impose silence upon the frogs in 
order that the sleep of this or that marquis, or this 
or that prior, might not be disturbed. Electors, 
know that in voting for Monsieur Galmich, you 
vote for yourselves, for your honor, for progress, 
for the Emperor who loves you ; love him also ! 
Vive la France regeneree ! Vive V Empereiir ! " 
The mayor of Kermania even mounted the pulpit 
20* 



1 



466 DEMOGBACY AND MONARCHY IN FRANCE. 

on Sunday in the place of the cure ; and preached 
in favor of the official candidate. 

Illustrations might be multiplied, but it is per- 
haps unnecessary. In all parts of France, as might 
be shown by examples in abundance, the mayors 
brought the full weight of their official position 
to bear upon the result. The full significance of 
this interference with the free expression of the 
will of the peoj)le will be understood only as it is 
remembered that the mayors in France were not 
elected by the people, but were appointed by the 
Emperor. Moreover it must be kept in mind that 
the authority of the mayor over the voters of his 
district was in inany respects similar to the author- 
ity of a custom-house officer in the United States 
over his subordinates. Both are officers of the 
general government, and both have the power to 
make the interests of their official inferiors depend 
upon the nature of their votes. If this compari- 
son should seem to any one to be unjust to the 
French, I have only to refer to the array of threats 
and promises given in the pages of Ferry and of 
Delord. 

But the work of the mayors, as was well under- 
stood, did not stop with threats and promises. 
They everywhere betook themselves to the polling- 
booths, in order to exercise an active surveillance 
over the work of voting. To a foreigner w^ho 
simply reads the law, it would seem that ample 
provision had been made for the protection of the 
voter. It was specifically required that the elec- 



irmVEBSAL SUFFRAGE UNDER NAPOLEON III. 407 

tion sliould be by secret ballot; a fact which 
would seem to be sufficient guarantee that the 
elector would be insured in the privilege of voting 
as he wished ; and yet it was found to l3e not 
difficult to evade the provisions of the statute. It 
was ]iecessary that those who had promised and 
threatened should have some means of knowing 
]30sitively whether a given elector would be enti- 
tled to the promised reward, or whether, on the 
contrary, he would be deserving of the threatened 
punishment. To accomplish this end various de- 
vices were resorted to, any one of which would 
raise an irresistible outcry of indignation in any 
free country. A common method was to post 
along the approach to the ballot-box a double line 
of military and civil officers, each one of w^hom 
was commissioned to examine the ballot, and in 
case of need to exchange the non-official for the 
official."^* In other places the official ballots Avere 
printed upon paper which was easily recognized. f 
The law that the voting should be secret vv^as in- 
terpreted to mean that the ballot should n(3t ])e 

* " Les electeurs de la campagne, pour se rendie dans la salle du 
scrutin, sont obligos de traverser une sorte de couloir ou secretaire do la 
mairic ; officiers de pompiers, brig-adiers de gendarmerie, fourriers de 
ville, gardes champetres, cantonniers, sont en permanence et deman- 
dent a chaque electeur son bulletin, qu' ils remplacent par le bulletin 
du candidat officiel si celui qu' ils ont porte le nom du candidat de 
Vopposition." — Delord^ III. 41G. 

f " Quelqucsuns auraient bion envic de voter pour Topposition en 
s'cn rapportant au secret du vote guaranti par la loi, mais lo candidat 
du gouvcrncmcnt a 6crit son nom sur du papier transparent, ot pour 
plus de precaution, le maire h. envoy 6 aux electeurs dont il se m'fic le 
bulletin ofliciel pique ou colic sar leur carte d'clcctour." — Ibid. 



'"II 



468 DEMOGBAGY AND MONAIIGIIY IN FRANGE. 

opened or scrutinized by those in official charge of 
the election ; accordingly there was no protection 
whatever for the elector against the interference 
of the mayor and those other dignitaries who had 
no such official connection. Even when those in 
charge of the boxes performed their duty faith- 
fully, of what consequence was it after the elector 
had already been robbed of his non-official vote, 
and forced to appear before them with the gov- 
ernment ballot only ? There is the best of author- 
ity for affirming that in many instances the mayors 
not only seized and destroyed non-official ballots, 
but that they also declared that whatever the num- 
ber of votes procured by the candidate of the oppo- 
sition, the government candidate would be elected."'^* 
It is further to be said that the law requires the 
ballot-boxes to be sealed, a requirement whicli it 
would not seem very difficult to fulfil ; and yet 
we are gravely assui'ed that the means for carry- 
ing out this law were in many of the communes 
so incomplete, that the votes were actually cast, 
sometimes into a hat, sometimes into a soup or 
salad bowl, and sometimes even into the mayor's 
pocket, held open for that purpose by the mayor 
himself and by an assistant. f 

* "Un grande nombre de maires ouvrent les bulletins et dochirent 
ceux des opponants, affirmant ; d'ailleurs que quelque soit le nombre 
de suffrages obtenus par le candidat de Topposition, le candidat du gouv- 
emeraent sera elu, et, comme pour donnerplus de poids a leur affirma- 
tion, ils offreut de paricr cent centre un que les choses se passeront 
^m^V'—Delord, III. 417. 

f " L' Apposition des scelles sur la boite du scrutin ne preoccupait 
guere ces fonctionnaires. lis laissaient au brigadier de gendarmerie 



UmVEBSAL SUFFRAGE TINDER NAPOLEON III. 4^9 

It would be easy to multiply examples similar 
to tliose wMch have already been given, but it is 
quite unnecessary. I should not, indeed, have 
prolonged the subject so far as I have already 
done, but for the necessity of bringing forward 
actual proofs of the pressure which was so con- 
stantly and £0 successfully used. Nothing but a 
presentation of facts is a sufficient answer to the 
arguments of those who found their support of 
Najijoleon III. on the belief that from first to last 
he enjoyed the unswerving support of his peo- 
ple. 

Now, I think there can be no question that a 
support gained in the manner which I have at- 
tempted to show is far worse for a nation than 
any open opposition to its government can be. It 
is making use of popular institutions as a mask 
behind which to hide a system of oppression and 
tyranny ; it is prostituting the cause of freedom, 
and making it subordinate to the ends of despot- 
ism. If a people are to be made political slaves, 
let them at least be spared the mockery of sham- 
liberty, lest they bring all liberty into discredit, 
and all free institutions into contempt. It may be 
that an imperial government is the best govern- 
ment for France (though I do not believe that 

oa un maitre d'ecole le soin de se confirmer a cette prescription de la 
loi, assez difficile, du re'ste, a remplir avec un materiel electoral telle- 
ment incornplet que dans un grand nombre de communes on 'cotait soit 
dans un cJmpeau^ soit dans un saladier^ soit dans une soupiere et, d 
d'faut de ces recipients^ dans lapoche dumaire tenue entrebdilie par lui 
et par I'adjoint ou par Ic garde champ jtrc." — Dclord, III, 417. 



470 DEMOGRAGT AND MONARCHY IN FRANCE. 

sucli is the case) ; it is certain that so long as 
moral principles apply to the welfare of nations, 
as they do to the welfare of men, any government 
founded and sustained by such a system of du/perie^ 
to use the forcible word of Taine, as was that of 
Napoleon III., will end in weakness and ruin. 
What Shelley* said of men as a possibility, may be 
said of governments as a certainty ; and for the 
reason that with governments the end of all things 
is in this life : 



' . ... He who gains by base and armed wrong-, 
Or guilty fraud, or base compliances. 
May be despoiled ; even as a stolen dress 
Is stript from a convicted thief, and he 
Left in the nakedness of infamy." 



But even this is not all. Not only is the gov- 
ernment overthrown, but the political life of the 
nation is paralyzed. "Nous n'avons pas de vie 
publique en France," wrote M. Taine, two years 
after the fall of Paris ; and the explanation of the 
truth is in the fact that the public has been so 
often duped and deceived by the government, that 
it no longer cares what the government is. That 
the nation was not cured of its political ills when 
monarchy was overthrown and republicanism was 
established, the world had startling evidence when 
M. Gambetta, not long since, produced in the As- 
sembly a Circular of the Minister of the Interior, 
which asked the prefects for the names of such 
political journals as were capable of becoming 



I 



UNIVERSAL SUFFRAGE UNDER NAPOLEON ILL 471 

friends to the government. The incident atfords 
a new illustration of Virgil's words : 

" Facilis descensus Averno ; 
Noctes atque dies patet atri janua Ditis 
Sed revocare gradum superasque evadere ad auras 
Hoc opus, Mc labor est.'' 



DECLINE AND PALL. 



" We shall get rid of Napoleon in a few years, perhaps in a 
few months; but there is no saying how much mischief he 
may do in those years, or even in those months." — De Tocque- 
VILLE (in 1851), Jlemoi?' and Hemains, II. 197. 

" Plus on r6flechit sur la nati?re et les conditions de cet 
etablissement, soi-disant monarchique, soi-disant constitutionel, 
soi-disant conservateur que le cour des choses, plus peut-etre 
que la volonte de I'homme, nous impose aujourd'-hui, plus on 
demeure convaincu qu'il ne tient ^ rien et n'a point d'avenir ; 
que la moindre pierre d'achoppement lui sera fatale, qu' aux 
approches du premier orage, des premiers embarras serieux, du 
premier revers de fortune * * * * nous rentrerons, ^ 
pleines voiles, en revolution, nous verrons cette Babel crouler, 
a son tour, par la confusion des langues, par la discorde et la 
dispersion des ouvriers qui I'ont elevee." — De Broglie, Vues 
sur le Gouvernement de la France (1861), p. Ixvi. 



I 



CHAPTER X. 

DECLIT^^E AND FALL. 

THERE are few things in history more inter- 
esting than the persistency of certain na- 
tional traits. The words which, two hundred 
years before Christ, Cato the Elder used with pe- 
culiar felicity in describing the Cauls of his day, 
are equally applicable to the French of the pres- 
ent time.* 

This same persistency, notwithstanding the nu- 
merous revolutions that have taken place, shows 
itself in the most fundamental relations of the 
governing and the governed. In England, and 
indeed wherever that which may be called the 
Anglo-Saxon idea of government prevails, the ac- 
countability of every executive officer is insisted 
on and acknowledged. I think it may be said thafc 
if there is any one thing which, more than all 
others, characterizes Anglo-Saxon institutions, it is 
the perpetual responsibility, under the law, of the 
governing to the governed. In theory, the English 
king can do no wrong ; and yet, whenever wrong is 
done by the executive, the English people have a sure 
and a lawful remedy by means of impeachment. 

* '* Plera quo Gallia duas res industriosissirae persequitur ; rem mil- 
itarem et argute loqui." 



476 DEMOGBAGT AJSTJD MOJSfABCHT IN FRANCE, 

Since the reign of Edward III., every English min- 
ister has known, or should have known, that no 
command of royal master would shield him from 
disgrace, or even death, in case of violation of the 
law. The people have kept in their own hands the 
means of lawfully punishing all executive trans- 
gressors, and executive transgressions have, in con- 
sequence of this fact, been comparatively infre- 
quent.^ 

In France, however, a theory fundamentally dif- 
ferent has prevailed. When the nation emerged 
from the middle ages, a permanent army was estab- 
lished, and a permanent tax for its support was im- 
posed. These facts placed the king beyond the 
control of the people. As the impost appeared to 
be levied in no sense for the needs of the collective 
whole, but rather as a tribute imposed by strength 
upon weakness, its payment was a necessary humil- 
iation, while successful resistance was tantamount 
to a title of honor. The nation, therefore, soon 
found itself divided into two classes : those who 
were strong enough to resist payment, and those 
who were so weak as to be obliged to pay. Sums 
levied upon the people belonged , by right to the 
king, who disposed of the money received accord- 
ing to his fancy. Taxes were imposed upon the 
feeble, while the strong and the noble remained ex- 
empt from all payment. This condition of affairs, 
so long as it existed, was absolutely fatal to the 

* This subject, as tlie reader will probably remember, is ably dis- 
cussed by Lieber, Civil Liberty^ chaps. V. and XXXIII. 



DECLINE AND FALL. 477 

liberty of the people; and, bad as this was, what 
was almost infinitely worse, it was fatal to any- 
thing like a law-abiding spirit in the nation at 
large. One has only to look into the history of 
France at any time from the accession of Louis 
XL to the days of Louis XIV., to see that the ele- 
ment of force had become quite predominant over 
the element of law^ and that as time progressed, 
matters, in this respect, were growing worse and 
worse. 

Royal despotism attained its height in the latter 
half of the seventeenth century. At this period 
the nobles had been reduced to the condition of 
valets ; the better class of burgesses imitated the 
nobles, and the lowest orders imitated the burgesses. 
The state was personified in the king, and the j^jeo- 
ple sank into habits the most servile. The conse- 
quence was an age of feebleness, of caprice, of 
infatuation. 

When Louis XVI. came into power he mani- 
fested the best of intentions ; but he was naturally 
weak, and consequently was incapable of perform- 
ing the difiicult task set before him. He tried, 
various reforms, always without success. His ef- 
forts only made it certain that neither the nobility, 
nor the clergy, nor the parliaments, nor the indus- 
trial corporations, would consent to reform; at 
the same time it was becoming daily more and 
more certain that the opinions of the people would 
not be satisfied without reform everywhere. 
Hence, when the revolution broke out, it was a 



478 DEM0GBAC7 AND MONARCHY IN FBANGE. 

revolution against institutions ; and it was not un- 
natural that, when the former slaves became mas- 
ters, they exercised the same arbitrary powers that 
their own masters had exercised before them. 
They had been schooled in a government habitu- 
ated to falsehood and to the employment of coujjs 
de force^ and they could hardly be expected, on 
coming into power, to abandon a habit which, con- 
firmed by a practice of three hundred years, may 
be said to have become national and universal. 

It was for this reason that the revolutionary gov- 
ernment was found to afford little better security 
than had been afforded by that which it had over- 
thrown. The same false ideas concerning the pow- 
ers of those in office prevailed ; the same lack of 
responsibility was everywhere manifested. Ac- 
cordingly we see that, during all the turmoils which 
intervened between 1789 and 1851, however much 
the various governments differed from one another 
in their secondary characteristics, in this one es- 
sential feature of every good government they were 
all alike deficient, namely, that they afforded to 
the governed no guarantee whatever that their 
rights would be respected by the governing. The 
uniform effort of the person or persons in power 
has been, not to administer the government for the 
greatest good of the people, but to confirm that 
power in such a manner that it could be held 
against every emergency. That '' perversion" of 
authority from its legitimate purpose, which, as 
Aristotle declared, must, under such conditions, 



DECLINE AIW FALL. 479 

ensue, lias been the uniform result.*"* If we except 
the single reign of Louis Philippe, it may be said 
that the tendency after every revolution has been 
to allow the executive to absorb the legislative and 
the judicial branches of the government, and that 
against the abuses which have just as uniformly 
ensued, the people have had no remedy but the 
desperate remedy of revolution. 

Perhaps it would have been asking too much of 
Napoleon III. to demand that he should form an 
exception to this general method ; be that as it 
may, the thinking portion of the nation soon learned 
that the old process of absorption was rapidly tak- 
ing place. In the last chapter I endeavored to 
show how the results of universal suffrage were 
made to subserve the imperial policy ; it now re- 
mains to examine the other features of the same 
reign, and to point out the consequences to which 
they naturally and inevitably led. 

There is, perhaps, nothing more essential to the 
existence of liberty in a nation than the freedom of 
the press. In the small republics of ancient times 
the people received political education and political 
knowledge in the popular assemblies. Every ques- 
tion of general interest was then discussed in the 
presence of all the people. The orator was at once 
the schoolmaster and the editor ; the tribune Avas 



* When the one, the few, or the many direct their policj'- to the com- 
mon good, such states are well governed ; but when the interest of the 
one, the few, or the many who are in office is alone consulted, a per- 
version takes place.— .dmtoifte, Politics, blc. III. chap. VII. 



480 IfJEMOCRAGT AND MONARCHY IN FRANCE. 

the school and the newspaper. It is but a truism 
to say that if the people at large are to take a part 
in the government of the nation, there must be 
some means by which they can learn how the gov- 
ernment is carried on. In modern times the print- 
ing-press has taken the place of the tribune, and 
it is, therefore, the only means by which such infor- 
mation can be disseminated. 

In order that the truth may be known, evidence 
must be sifted. There must be liberty to testify 
on either side of every question. The freedom to 
deny must be as complete as the freedom to assert. 
Every free government is undergoing a constant 
process of trial at the bar of public opinion, and the 
evidence on which the people are to work up their 
verdict comes chiefly from the emanations of the 
press. Books and newspapers are the main wit- 
nesses. Any intelligent people would scout at a 
court of justice which should permit testimony on 
one side only ; and precisely for the same reason a 
people ought to insist that its press shoukl be al- 
lowed to represent every shade of opinion. It 
should have absolute freedom, and then should be 
held accountable for the abuse of that freedom, just 
as a witness in a court of justice is held accounta- 
ble for perjury. Under no other circumstances can 
a people be sure that it is receiving the truth, and 
hence it is, that all other liberties rest for their se- 
curity upon liberty of the press. Bagehot lias well 
said that " no state can be first-rate which has not 



DECLINE AND FALL. 481 

a government by discussion," * and he might have 
added that no discussion is of value unless it is 
free. 

Journalism in France has not been the result of 
slow growth, as it has in England. It sprang into 
full-armed strength from the brow of the Revolu- 
tion, and it threw itself at once into the heat of 
the struggle. It attacked parties and powers with 
a ferocity absolutely unknown to the press of Eng- 
land or America. The almost unvarying conse- 
quence has been, that whenever the party attacked 
has found itself in power, it has turned the tables 
and annihilated its journalistic enemies. 

This habit, which has long survived the Revolu- 
tion, results from a confusion of the ideas of lib- 
erty and license. To recur to the simile which I 
used above, it is just as necessary in a court of jus- 
tice that the witness should know that he can tes- 
tify nothing but the truth, as that he should have 
liberty to testify the whole truth. It is just as 
essential that the perjurer should be punished, as 
that the witness should be allowed his liberty. 
For precisely the same reasons, the laws against 
libel should be sharply defined and vigorously car- 
ried out. It would be impossible to show that a 
witness who injures another by means of libellous 
charges is less worthy of punishment than is the 
witness who secures the conviction of an enemy by 
means of perjury. In France, however, this prin- 
ciple seems never to have been fully understood, 

* English ConstUaiioii: lutroduction to Second Edition, p. 71. 
21 



482 DEMOGRAGY AND MONABGHY IJST FBANGE. 



or at least never to liave been generally admitted 
and applied. The press lias been kept in chains. 
Whenever its shackles have been stricken off it has 
fallen into the wildest license, and then the people 
have demanded its destruction. The spirit which, 
ever since the Grreat Revolution, has uniformly pre- 
vailed, has been the spirit of a constant and an ac- 
tive supervision. It is needless to say that such a 
spirit is altogether incompatible with true develop- 
ment. Occasionally the demand for freedom from 
supervision has prevailed, and the result, in such 
cases, has been that the journals have turned upon 
their masters, like wild beasts broken loose from 
their cages. " I come to attack the true assassins of 
the country," cried Talot, in the Council of Five 
Hundred ; " I come to denounce a score of black- 
guards (gredins) who occupy themselves with pub- 
lic opinion and who are teaiing the government to 
pieces. The clubs rendered service at the begin- 
ning of the Revolution, presently they ended in cor- 
ruption and danger. Every journal is a migratory 
club, preaching revolt and disobedience to the laws. 
It is impossible that a government should subsist 
and establish order in the midst of such destruc- 
tive elements. We must have a law to curtail the 
liberty of the press, or else we must give to everj^ 
man the same liberty to break the head of his 
calumniator."''''' 

* n f aut une loi qui reprime enfin la liberte de la presse, ou bien per- 
mettre a chacun de se servir de la mume liberte pour presser les omo- 
lilates de son calomniateur." — Delorcl^ Hist, du Second Empire^ vol. II. ' 
p. 166. 



DECLINE AND FALL. 4S3 

The experience of the nation, after the Revolu- 
tion of 1848, was of a similar nature to that indi- 
cated by the speech of Talot. The same causes 
once more produced the same results. The violence 
of the revolutionary journals was exceedingly in- 
tense, and no method revealed itself to the people 
by which that violence could be counteracted. 
They saw no method of restraining it but by im- 
posing upon it a perpetual silence. In speaking of 
this very period, De Tocqueville says : " The lan- 
guage of the press was never more inflamed, nor 
their clamors more loud, than at the moment when 
they were to have imposed upon them fifteen years 
of silence. If one desires to know the true power 
of the press," continues he, " one must pay atten- 
tion not only to what it says, but also to the man- 
ner in which it is heard. It is this very fervor 
which sometimes announces feebleness and presages 
the end. It shouts so loud only because its audi- 
tors are deaf, and it is this very deafness of the 
public which permits it, on occasion, to be reduced 
to silence with impunity."'^' 

We are now prepared to consider the condition 
of the press under the Second Empire. 

The law of 1852 placed all the journals under 
the jurisdiction of the administration. The Minis- 
ter of the Interior alone had the right to appoint 
and dismiss editors-in-chief on the recommenda- 
tion of the owners. No change in the editorial 

* De Tocqueville, QSuxrcs et Correspondences incdites, quoted by De- 
lord, vol. II. p. 1G9. 



484 DBMOCRACr AND MONARCHY m FBANCB. 



corps or in the proprietorship of any journal was 
of binding force without an authorization from the 
minister. Besides these conditions, — enough in 
themselves to stifle all journalistic enterprise, — it 
was decreed that the judicial decisions should be 
announced only in such j)apers as the government 
should designate. These announcements being in 
France a source of great revenue, the decree 
amounted to a perpetual subsidy of the journals 
indicated, and an enticing bait held out to journals 
in especial need of money. All foreign journals, 
excepting such as might receive authorization, 
were denied circulation in France.''^ 

But even these precautions were deemed insuffi- 
cient. In 1853, all newspapers were required to 
make a large deposit in the way of cautiori'money. 
The result was not only that the journals were 
kept in constant fear that their money would be 
forfeited, but also that the smaller journals, espe- 
cially those in the country, were actually driven 
out of existence. Delord assures us that this sin- 
gle decree made the publication of cheap political 
journals impossible. It annihilated the small pa- 
pers, and raised the price of the large ones. 

If, at any time, the course of a journal was not 
satisfactory to the Minister of the Interior, some 
charge or other was preferred, and a trial was in- 
stituted. This investigation, in order to have the 
appearance of fairness, must be before a jury, but, 
in order that it might always issue to the satisfac- 

* Delord, vol. II. p. 173. 



^ 



DECLINE AND FALL. 485 

tion of tlie government, the jury was selected from 
the correctional police.'^ 

The circulation of any matter considered objec- 
tionable by the government brought an official 
warning from the minister ; and after three such 
warnings, the paper might, at the option of the 
same authority, be suspended. Often this right of 
supervision took a preventive form. Whenever 
anything occurred the publicity of which seemed 
undesirable, the minister was authorized to pre- 
vent even its bare mention. 

It would be a great mistake to suppose that this 
right of supervision was a mere privilege of which 
the government did not take occasion to avail it- 
self. One has only to read the chapter of Delord 
devoted to this subject, to see that the office 
charged with the care of the press was far from 
being a sinecure. This author has given an array 
of evidence to show, not only that the supervision 
was most active and most uninterrupted, but also 
that it even descended to details of the most 
trilling and insignificant nature, f 

* Delord, vol. II. p. 173. 
Y For example, the ConstituUonel received its two warnings for hav- 
V2.^ expressed a doubt concerning the correctness of a note in the Jloni- 
teur. A Protestant minister wrote in a Protestant religious journal, 
that " Five persons had just abjured at Edinburgh the errors of 
Roman Catholicism," whereupon the paper containing the notice re- 
ceived an immediate "warning." In the course of fourteen months 
under the administration of Maupas there occurred ninety-one " warn- 
ings" and three suspensions. — Delord^ vol. II. p. 105. The same au- 
thor says: " Le feuilletonde theatre a etc jilus d'une fois avcrti d'avoir 
a prendre garde a ses opinions sur les pirouettes des demoiselles du 
corps de ballet de I'Opera."— Vol. II. p. 198. 



486 DEMOGBAGY AND MONARGRY IN FUAWGE. 

It would have been a marvel indeed if the amount 
of the caution-money exacted, and the silence im- 
posed upon all adverse opinions, had not driven a 
majority of the newspapers out of existence. Most 
of them gave up the struggle in disgust ; the few 
that were strong enough to continue were made 
to feel that the sword of Damocles was constantly 
over their heads. 

It would be incorrect to suppose that no effort 
was made to change this state of affairs. From 
time to time a voice of protest was raised, but the 
result was always unsatisfactory and discourag- 
ing. In 1861, just after the Emperor had given 
somewhat more liberty of debate to the legislative 
body, Jules Favre protested against the laws eon- 
trolling the press as utterly inconsistent with the 
pretensions of the government. ^' I fearlessly as- 
sert," exclaimed he, " that, as matters now stand, 
there is no press in France but a government 
press, no opinion professed except the opinion dic- 
tated or authorized beforehand by the administra- 
tion itself. Liberty must be restored to the press ! 
As long as it is withheld " (cried he, addressing the 
minister), " you will meet here a determined enemy, 
who, on every opportunity, will proclaim to the 
country that the wish to retain arbitrary power is 
in itself a confession of incurable weakness." But 
even these courageous words could effect nothing. 
'-'- Do not imagine," said the minister in reply, 
" that the grand act of the 24th of November is 
one of those concessions under favor of which the 



DECLINE AND FALL. 437 

enemy, already in the environs, finishes by pene- 
trating into and mastering the fortress." Thus all 
words of protest were simply thrown away. 

It needs to be said, moreover, that literature of 
a more substantial form was subject to the same 
degrading conditions. Every bookseller and every 
printer had to take out a government license, and 
this license was liable to be withdrawn in case of 
any ofEence. This fact made it impossible to 
carry any political work of character through the 
press. A process of emasculation often had to 
take place, befoi'e any publisher would accept the 
manuscript. In many instances authors, in order 
to get their ideas and their testimony before the 
world, were obliged to publish an unexpurgated 
edition in a foreign country. "^^^ 

In the rural districts of France matters were 
still worse. There the book-trade is carried on 
exclusively through the medium of licensed ped- 
lers. Under the pretext of moral and religious 
supervision, every work intended for sale had to 
be inspected at the Bureau of the Interior, and 
every volume offered had to bear the seal of im- 
perial approbation. The law amounted to abso- 
lute interdiction of every work not acceptable to 
the government. 

* This was the case with the Memoir es of Guizot, — perhaps the most 
important contribution to the history of France since the Revohition. 
That such a work should be obliged to go to Leipsic for publication, and 
have printed upon the title-page of every volume, '■'• Editianintirdlte 
pour la France^'' was as great a disgrace to the nation as it was an ad- 
vertisement to the work. 



488 DEMOGRAOT AND MONABGHY UST FRANCE 

Now, of tliis policy, there could of course be 
but one result. As a matter of simple fact, public 
opinion was absolutely destroyed. When Mon- 
sieur Taine wrote, in 1870, "We have no 
public life in France," ^ lie simply recorded a 
natural consequence of a deliberate policy. 

Under Louis Philippe, and even under the 
Bourbons before him, something had been done to 
enlighten public opinion concerning political af- 
fairs. These means of enlightenment, when suf- 
frage was suddenly made universal, should in all 
reason have been increased and extended. De 
Tocqueville declared in 1851 : "Thirty-seven 
years of liberty have made a free j)ress and free 
parliamentary discussion necessaries to us ; "f but 
instead of these there was imposed upon the 
nation a more rigid surveillance of the press than 
had ever been known, and consequently the people 
under the Second Empire were characterized by a 
degree of ]3olitical ignorance which, to those who 
have not studied its causes, is absolutely marvel- 
lous. As men w^ere ignorant of what was done 
by the government, they knew not what to think 
about it; and, as they knew not what to think, 
their ignorance soon lapsed into the still moi'e 
deplorable phase of almost absolute indifference. 

Soon after the establishment of Napoleon III. 
the same keen observer, whom I have so often 
quoted, wrote in answer to the inquiries of Beau- 

* Du Suffrage XJnwersel, p. 28. 
f Memoirs and Remains^ vol. II. p. 196. 



DECLINE AND FALL. 439 

mont : " It is hard to ascertain the real state of 
public opinion in my department, so great is the 
reserve with which individuals express themselves, 
partly from prudence, and partly from not know- 
ing what to think. There is almost universal 
silence. No people, while thinking of nothing but 
politics, ever talked of them, so little." "^ 

In the year following he wrote to a friend in 
Germany : " Remember that in consequence of 
the loss of interest in politics, and of the liberty of 
the press, the country has come to be a place to 
which neither air nor light ever penetrate. It was 
always a sort of cave, and now they have stopped 
up the last crevice."f 

Still more emphatic and striking is a passage 
which the same author wrote a year later. Refer- 
ring to the condition of literature and of the press, 
he used these remarkable words : " Our present 
state in this respect is unlike anything one finds in 
the history of the last two hundred years ; and of 
all the changes that time has effected in our hab- 
its and character, this is one of the most extraordin- 
ary. In the most literary nation of Europe, in 
that which has convulsed itself, and convulsed 
the- world by means of abstract ideas taken from 
books, a generation has arisen up, taking abso- 
lutely no interest in anything which is written, 
attaching no importance to anything but events, 
and only to a few facts — those which are evidently, 

•* De Tocqueville, Memoirs and Remains^ vol. II. p. 170. 
f Memoirs and Remains^ vol. II. p. 210. 
21* 



490 DEMOGRAGT AND MONARCHY IN FRANCE. 

directly, and immediately comiected with physical 
well-being. Of all the aristocracies, that which 
has been most utteiiy destroyed by the Revolution 
is the aristocracy of literature." ^ 

I turn now from the condition of the press un- 
der the Second Empire to the condition of- educa- 
tion. It will be necessary to go into a discussion 
of details only so far as may be requisite to show 
its political influence and its political tendency. 

In the reign of Louis Philippe, and under the 
direction of Guizot and of Villemain (each of 
whom was for a time Minister of Public Instruc- 
tion), much was done to elevate the condition of 
educational institutions. The influence of the 
church, whose cramping hand had so long held 
the schools in its grasp, was at last considerably 
weakened. During that reign the government 
determined that the degree of Baclielier-es-LeUres 
should be conferred only on those who had stud- 
ied in schools open to government inspection. 
This decree was aimed at the schools of the Jes- 
uits, and its influence was altogether wholesome. 

On the accession of Napoleon III. this policy was 
reversed. The church in France since the Restora- 
tion had become more and more ultramontane.''" 

* Memoirs and Remains^ vol. II. p. 247. I have quoted so largely 
from De Tocqueville, nob because there is not abundant testimony to 
the same facts in the other writers, but because upon every political 
question which he touched, I deem his words of transcendent impor- 
tance. 

f ' ' L'ultramontanisme, represente et defendu par des hommes comma 
de Maistre, de Bonald, Lammeunais, avait fait de notable progres sous 
la Eestoration." — Delord^ Hist, du Second Empire, vol. II. p. 210. 



DECLINE AND FALL. 491 

The Revolution of 1830 was anti-Catholic in its 
sympathies ; and largely, for that very reason, the 
government of Louis Philippe was never able to 
command the hearty sympathy of the church. 
Catholics welcomed the Revolution of February, 
1848, with enthusiasm, ^ not because they saw at 
the time anything better in prospect, but because 
it overthrew an enemy, and because they believed 
that whatever happened, matters would not be in 
a worse condition. Again, the clergy did not 
hesitate to array themselves against the republic, 
and to second the efforts of Louis Napoleon. 
Both the clergy and the laity strove earnestly, first 
for his election to the presidency, and then for his 
support after the usurpation of December. Uni- 
versal suffrage had revealed to the priests their 
jDOwer, and they saw that the new regime would 
put into their hands a means of influencing the 
government such as they had not enjoyed since 
the Restoration. 

Napoleon did not hesitate to show his apprecia- 
tion of their services in his behalf. The law of 
Louis Philippe to which I referred above was 
immediately repealed ; the Jesuits were reinstated 
in their chairs of instruction. But this was not 
sufficient. It was necessary not only that there 
should be Jesuit schools, where instruction might 
be given in secret, but also that there should be 
adopted a method by which all instruction, public 
as well as private, might be controlled. Accord- 

* Delord, vol. II. p. 211. 



492 DEMOGBAGY AND MONARGHY IN FBANGE. 

ingly, De Falloux, the first Minister of Public 
Instruction under tiie Empire, inaugurated his 
administration by appointing a commission to pre- 
pare a law for the reconstruction of the schools. 

In due tinae a scheme was reported. Its most 
important provisions were the following : The 
General Council of Public Instruction was not 
essentially modified (probably because it was 
already under the direct control of the Emperor), 
except that in future it was to contain three 
archbishops or bishops, to be chosen by their col- 
leagues. In each department a subordinate edu- 
cational board, known as the Academical Council, 
was established ; and of this, the bishop, the pre- 
fect, and the attorney-general were to be members. 
The academical degrees, which had hitherto been 
essential to all instructors, were declared to be no 
longer necessary either to presidents or professors 
or subordinate teachers. Finally, the presidents 
of such religious corporations as were acknowl- 
edged by the state were authorized to grant 
teachers' certificates without restriction.'^' 

The consequences of this new law were two- 
fold : on the one hand it extended vastly tl]e 
powers and influence of the clergy ; on the other, 
it completed the alliance between the clergy and 
the Emperor. Religious associations, devoted es- 
pecially to the work of instruction, sprang up in 
all parts of France. The arts and the sciences 
came once more to be very generally taught by 

* Delord, Hist, du Second Empire, vol. II. p. 214. 



DECLINE AND FALL. 493 

Dominicans and Benedictines. Teachers who in 
the time of Louis Philippe had received profes- 
sional training, now found themselves without 
occupation ; for their places were filled by men 
whose technical education had been acquired in 
the monastery and the pulpit. There were in the 
country eighteen hundred and thirty-six religious 
establishments, and these called into existence, 
under the new law, no less than seventeen hundred 
and forty -nine schools devoted to different grades 
of instruction. Besides these, there were estab- 
lished by the Jesuits sixteen colleges, which were 
sustained by subscription and private munificence. ^* 
When these facts are remembered, it will not be 
considered strange that the church was the firmest 
supporter of the Emperor, and that, when the latter 
needed a sustaining vote of the people, we find the 
cure and the prefect working hand in hand. Thus 
the new law strengthened the Emperor, while at the 
same time, by means of the inferior instruction for 
which it provided, it weakened the nation at large. "^ 
But notwithstanding these efforts of the Im- 
perial government to enlist the pulpit and the 
press in its own support, there was slowly devel- 
oped in the country an opposition, which, as time 
advanced, became really formidable. The means 

* Delord, HM. dii Second Empire, vol. II. p. 317. 
f The spirit of the church in its relations to the press is discussed at 
length by Delord, in the fourteenth chapter of his fourth volume. 
By numerous examples he gives sufficient proof, that the church 
" soutenait en outre une guerre ardente et quotidienne contre la presse 
liberale et dcmocratique. " — Vol. IV. p. 541. 



494 DEMOCRAGY AND MONARCHY IN FRANCE. 

wLicli never failed to subordinate the masses of 
the ignorant to the will of the Emperor, only 
provoked a more decided opposition from the in- 
telligent and the educated. This opposition grad- 
ually penetrated the masses, so that, as we shall 
see, the hold of the Emperor upon the hearts of 
the nation was, toward the end of his reign, con- 
siderably weakened. The progress of this de- 
cline of popularity may be easily traced in the 
character and bearing of the different representa- 
tive assemblies. 

In order to understand this subject, it is neces- 
sary to bear in mind the fact that the Legislative 
Body had been degraded by the Constitution into 
a thing but little better than a court of record. 
In place of the free tribune which, in the days 
of Louis Philippe, had rung with the unrestrained 
utterances of orators like Guizot and Thiers and 
Lamartine, there was now only a species of repre- 
sentative committee empowered to approve, but 
not to amend, the laws proposed by the Emperor. 
There was a Senate, it is true, but this took no 
part in the work of legislation, except to decide 
upon the constitutionality of such laws as the 
Emperor might desire to propose. Finally, as if 
to withdraw every stimulus to oratorical effort, 
both the Senate and Legislative Body sat with 
closed doors. 

The relief from fear of revolution and anarchy, 
so generally felt on the accession of Napoleon, and 
the system of official candidates adopted by the 



DECLINE AND FALL. 495 

government were, wlien taken together, enough to 
secu]'e a legislative body in which the liberal 
element was absolutely unrepresented. It is a re- 
markable fact that the first Coiys Legislatif of the 
Second Empire contained no element of opposition 
to the regime which had been established. 

Before the election in 1857, however, this una- 
nimity of support had been broken. The rural 
districts, thanks to the priests and the prefects, 
retained their loyalty ; but the cities, where, in 
spite of the stringent press-laws, some intelligence 
of public affairs prevailed, could not be held under 
the yoke. The result of the canvass showed that, 
notwithstanding all the efforts of the government, 
fiYQ of its prominent candidates had been defeated, 
and that the course of the opposition was now to 
be represented by the impetuous eloquence of 
Picard, Ollivier, and Jules Favre. 

It was not long after the election of these mem- 
bers before events took place which gave full play 
to all their powers. The attempt of Orsini upon 
the life of the Emperor, in January, 1858, was fol- 
lowed by the atrocious loi de surete general which 
imposed fine, imprisonment, and even exile upon 
the utterance of opinions hostile to the Emperor 
or to his government. This law, followed by that 
system of esjnonage^ which placed a secret spy in 
every cafe and on every street-corner, could not, 
with all the efforts of the government, be made 
acceptable. The courageous plain-speaking of the 
press, in the teeth of a merciless persecution, re- 



496 DEMOGBAGY AND MONABGHT IN FRANGE. 

vealed to the Emperor the dangerous ground on 
whicli lie was standing. The Revue de Paris^ 
the Asseniblee Nationale^ and the Manaiel General 
de Vlnstmtction Primaire were suppressed; the 
Steele, the Gazette de France, the Constitutionel^ 
and the Presse were repeatedly warned, w^hile the 
publisher of the latter was fined and imprisoned. 
But in spite of these vigorous measures on the 
part of the government, the opposition was un- 
daunted, and the result was that the Emperor had 
to give way. The decree of lu^ovember 24th, 
1860, astonished the world by what looked like a 
return to parliamentary government. The Legis- 
lative Body received by this decree the right to 
amend bills presented by the government, to vote 
a reply to the address from the throne, to sit with 
open doors — and what was of the greatest impor- 
tance — to enjoy the right of freedom of debate. 

These concessions could not but excite an enthu- 
siastic welcome on the part of the people. They 
were everywhere proclaimed as evidence of the 
Emperor's determination to promote the liberties 
of the nation. It was soon observed, however, that 
no concession of imperial power had really been 
made. The terms of the decree, when carefully 
sci'utinized, will be seen to have granted nothing 
except freedom of debate. The Corps Legisla- 
tif could now talk, but it could do nothing more. 
The right of amendment was nothing more than 
the right of suggestion, since the government was 
under no obligation to adopt any legislative meas- 



DECLINE AND FALL. 497 

ure whatever. The principal effect of the decree, 
therefore, was to enable the dissatisfied to make 
their complaints known, without giving them any 
means of making their power felt. Practically 
the only right conceded was the right to find fault. 
In an English Parliament or an American Con- 
gress this right is nothing to be dreaded, inas- 
much as everybody knows that on the one hand, 
the moment the opposition can create a majority, 
it will have the means of enforcing its demands ; 
and on the other, until this moment arrives, it 
will be practically powerless. The contest in 
these bodies, therefore, is at least theoretically, a 
contest of reason, in which the minority is con- 
stantly striving to convince the majority of its 
errors. In a French Assembly, where even the 
majority is destitute of real power, the object of 
discussion is altogether different. The true audi- 
ence of the French legislator is not his fellow- 
members, whom it is of no earthly use, or of alto- 
gether secondary importance, to convert to his 
views, but the Emperor on the one hand and the 
people on the other. The consequence of this 
fact, taken in connection with the peculiarly ar- 
dent temperament of the typical Frenchman, is 
that, as Mr. Bagehot has vigorously observed,^* 
the French assembly is far less deliberative in its 
character than is the representative body of either 
of the other great nations. 

* In writing. on this general subject, Mr. Bagehot says : "In the last 
hut one of these essays I have tried to describe one of the mental con- 



498 JDEMOCRAGY AND MONABGHT IN FRANCE. 

The Emperor in "his speech from the throne, at 
the opening of the session in 1861, did not neglect 
to inform the legislature of the true import of the 
decree of November. "' The legislative body does 
not, it is true," said he, "interfere in all the de- 
tails of administration, but it is directly chosen by 
universal suffrage, and counts no functionary in its 
bosom. It debates measures with the most entire 
liberty; if they are rejected, the rejection is a 
warning which the government takes into ac- 
count ; ^' hut it neither gives a slioch to poiver^ ar- 
rests the course of affairs^ nor forces upon the sov- 
ereign advisers in whom he cannot confided 

Of the freedom of debate afforded by the de- 
cree, the five members of the opposition at once 
availed themselves. The eloquent speech of Jules 
Favre on the liberty of the press, from which I 
have already quoted, was one of the results. The 
determination of the government, however, was in 

ditions of parliamentary government, which I call ' rationality,' by which 
I do not mean reasoning-power, but rather the power of hearing the 
reasons of others, of comparing them quietly with one's own reasons, 
and then being guided by the result. But a French assembly is not 
easy to reason with. Every assembly is divided into parties, and in 
France each party — almost every section of a party — begins not to 
clamor, but to scream, and to scream as only Frenchmen can, as soon as 
it hears anything which it particularly dislikes. With an assembly in 
this temper, real discussion is impossible, and parliamentary government 
is impossible too, because the parliament can neither choose men nor 
measures. The French assemblies under the restored monarchy seem 
to have been quieter, probably because, being elected from a limited 
constituency, they did not contain so many sections of opinion ; they had 
fewer irritants and fewer species of irritabilifcy." — Walter Bagehoty 
The English Constitution^ Second Edition; Introduction^ p. 11. 
^^*Un avertissement dont le gouvernement tient compte.''^ 



DECLINE AND FALL. 499 

no way shaken. Driven at length to a kind of 
exasperation, M. Billault, speaking for Ms impe- 
rial master, used these defiant words : '' All the 
foundations on which the government policy and 
the public security rest, the law of general safety, 
the control of the press, the patronage exercised 
by the government in the elections, are now at- 
tacked. But the very speeches we hear in this 
chamber prove clearly enough that the govern- 
ment cannot go farther without compromising 
itself. Gentlemen, in the presence of parties 
which are given to agitation, the government will 
not abandon the right, which it holds from the 
people, of preventing electoral assemblages where 
such meetings threaten danger ; it will not aban- 
don its right to support certain candidates in op- 
position to those of party nomination ; it will not 
dissolve this chamber, which has so well served 
the country ; it will not change the place of power 
conferred by \hQ lylebescite of 1852." 

After such an expression of imperial determina- 
tion it was evident that nothing remained to be 
done but simply to create public opinion, and to 
wait until after the election of a new assembly. 

The means used by the government to control 
the elections in 1863, I described somewhat in de- 
tail in the last chapter; it is, therefore, only neces- 
sary, in this connection, to note the results. In 
spite of all the efforts of prefects and priests, in 
spite, also, of the multitude of promises and threats 
which emanated from Paris and penetrated every 



500 DEMOGRAGT AND MONARCHY IN FRANCE. 

hamlet of France, it was found, when the can- 
vassing was completed, that the number of liberal 
representatives had been increased from live to 
thirty-six ; while in Paris, of the nine opposition 
candidates, eight had been elected. 

Still more indicative of the direction of the 
popular current were the facts revealed concern- 
ing the number of voters. Of an aggregate of 
about ten million electors, two million had been 
bold enough to vote for the opposition candidates, 
while more than two and a half millions had ab- 
stained from the polls. Of this unusual number 
of absentees, there could be but one explanation. 
No canvass had ever been conducted by the gov- 
ernment with so much vigor. It is therefore im- 
possible to suppose that its supporters had ab- 
stained in any considerable numbers. The absen- 
tees must have been either dissatisfied or indiffer- 
ent ; and as indifferentism must have generally 
given w^ay before the pressure of governmental 
agencies, it is certain that dissatisfaction was the 
almost exclusive cause of absence from the polls. 
The result of the election afforded sufficient proof 
that the imperial regime was losing its hold on the 
sympathies of the people. At the present rate 
of departure, the government would be able to 
command scarcely a majority at the next elec- 
tion. 

The gravity of this fact, however, seems to have 
made no impression upon the EmjDcror. The op- 
position, formidable as it had now become, was 



DECLINE AND FALL. 501 

treated witli an indiference bordering upon con- 
tempt. In reply to the address of tlie Corps Leg- 
islatif in 1864, tlie Emperor administered this 
rebuke : " Let us each remain in our proper 
spheres ; you, gentlemen, in enlightening and con- 
trolling the progress of the government, and tak- 
ing the initiative in all that may promote the 
greatness and prosperity of France." That the 
Emperor v\^as disposed to grant no abatement of 
his authority w^as made from time to time pain- 
fully manifest. In 1865 the conseih generaux of 
the Seine and Marne were bold enough to pass 
certain resolutions concerning their own interior 
organization, whereupon the resolutions were de- 
clared null and void by imperial decree. 

During the latter part of this year the liberal 
party pressed vigorously their claims for reform. 
The relations of Prussia r.nd Austria were becom- 
ing serious, and it was claimed with justice that a 
development of the decree of November 24th, 1860, 
would cement all parties into a firm support of the 
Emperor in any policy which he might find it best 
to i)ursue. They awaited anxiously, therefore, for 
the speech from the throne at the beginning of the 
new year. But all their hopes were disappointed. 
The imperial address contained an elaborate eulogy 
Oil the Constitution of 1852, and demonstrated 
clearly that no advance of liberal ideas w^as to be 
encouraged, or even tolerated. Then, too, as if to 
]-emove every possible doubt as to the purpose of 
the government, Persigriy followed the Emperor's 



502 DEMOGBAGT AND MONARCHY IN FRANCE 

speecli witli an amplification in wHcli he not only 
emphasized the eulogy, but also declared that the 
recent concessions which had been granted or prom- 
ised were a mistake, " a violation of the true and 
admirable principle of authority." It thus became 
evident that an important reaction on the part of 
the government had taken place. While the na- 
tion was demanding a liberal policy in terms more 
and more unmistakable, the authorities were dis- 
posed to withdraw even the concessions which they 
had already made. 

The effect of this policy was what it would seem 
that ordinary intelligence would have anticipated. 
The opposition in the legislative body, so far from 
being daunted, was considerably augmented. As 
a result of the tempestuous discussion that ensued 
on an amendment to the address calling for a devel- 
opment of the November decree, it was found that 
the minority of thirty-six had been increased to 
sixty-six. It was evident that the very parliamen- 
tary organization which the Emperor dreaded had 
been stimulated by the efforts which he had made 
to overwhelm it. " They refuse us the present, but 
they caDUot keep from us the future," were the de- 
fiant words of the leader of the Left Centre. Fol- 
lowing close upon these unsuccessful attempts to 
reform the interior administration came the war 
between Prussia and Austria, and all its momen- 
tous consequences. The unsuccessful efforts of the 
Emperor to secure, first a rectification of the Rhine 
boundary, and then the incorporation into France 



DECLINE AND FALL. 503 

of the Duchy of Luxembourg, reinforced im- 
mensely the opposition in the French Assembly. 
The rise of Prussia, as the result of the war, was 
regarded throughout France as in some sort a dis- 
grace to the French Government and the whole 
French people. This humiliation was laid at the 
door of the Emperor. It was categorically af- 
firmed, during the stormy debates of 1867, that 
Bismarck, at the celebrated meeting at Biarritz, in 
1865, had offered to the Emperor the Ehine fron- 
tier as the price of his support of Prussian policy, 
and that the offer had been declined, probably in 
expectation that the desired end would come about 
more naturally after the first battle had been 
fought. It was charged that the Emperor had an- 
ticipated the defeat of Prussia, and that he had be- 
lieved an opportunity would be given for French 
interference and ai'bitration in such a manner aa 
to lead to the coveted reward. The Emperor, it 
was said, had hoped to step between the combat- 
ants in order (after Prussia had received its first 
great disaster) to prevent too severe a punishment 
of the defeated nation ; and he had anticipated a 
territorial compensation in return for this service. 

All these anticipations had been frustrated. 
Not only had the government neglected to accept 
an offer which would have led to certain aoffyran- 
dizement, but it had pursued a policy which had 
ended at once in national humiliation, and in the 
elevation to absolute supremacy, in Germany, of 
the nation's traditional enemy. A writer in the 



504 DEMOGBAGT AND MONARCHY IN FRANCE. 

Hevue des Deux Mondes declares that the failure 
of the Emperor's diplomacy, and the consequent 
rise of Prussia, were everywhere regarded through- 
out France as " une sorte de decheancey 

The feelings thus excited were considerably in- 
tensified by the issue of the Luxembourg a:ffair. 
The Grand Duchy in question was granted by the 
Treaty in 1814, to the King of the Netherlands ; 
and at the same time it was made a member of the 
German Confederation. To Prussia was given the 
important right to garrison the fortress. This 
light, through all the changes that had taken place 
in 1830 and 1837, had not been molested. When 
Prussia, however, in 1866, renounced her participa- 
tion in the German Confederation, and that organ- 
zation in consequence was broken up, the question 
was raised whether Prussia should continue to ex- 
ercise the right of holding the fortress. Prussia 
maintained the right in virtue of the fact that it 
had been granted to her by treaties which were 
in no way dependent upon the relations of Luxem- 
bourg to the Confederation. In the eyes of Na- 
poleon, however, the territory a:fforded an obvious 
means of satisfying the national longing for ad- 
ditional strength on the Ehine. 

Neither the Dutch king nor the Dutch nation 
attached much importance to the territory in ques- 
tion. Geographically it was completely detached 
from the Netherlands, and was surrounded by 
powers liable at any time to be more or less hos- 
tile. When, therefore, the Emperor of the French 



DECLINE AND FALL. 5Q5 

made advances to the King of the Netherlands, 
looking toward a purchase of the Grand Duchy, 
the intrigue was eagerly listened to. The private 
treasury of the Dutch king was always in need of 
supplies, and the affair, therefore, went on smoothly 
until it became necessary to make the negotiations 
public. On the side of the French government it 
was desired that the affair should be kept from 
Prussia, until the cession of the territory should be 
an accomplished fact ; on the part of Holland, 
however, such a course was deemed altogether un- 
safe. Accordingly, on the same day that the king 
telegraphed to Paris that he had resolved to cede 
Luxembourg to France, he informed the Prussian 
ambassador at the Hague of his determination. 

The affair caused intense excitement throughout 
Germany. Ever since the tenth century the Grand 
Duchy had in one way or another been a part of 
the fatherland, and public opinion was naturally 
outraged at the idea that it should be ceded to 
France. On the first day of April, Von Beuning- 
sen of Hanover brought the matter, by means of 
an interpellation and a furious speech, before the 
North German Parliament. Bismarclc I'eplied to 
the excited interj)ellation and the fierce expressions 
which it called out, with most provoking calmness. 
Pie simply contented himself with regarding the 
parliamentary demonstration as amply justifying 
measures for putting the army on a war footing. 

But while Germany was tlnis preparing for a pos- 
sible emergency, the chancellor did not neglect to 



506 I>EMOGBAGY AND MONABGEY IJSf FBANGE. 

attempt peaceful measures. No sooner liad lie re- 
ceived information of the intrigue than he appealed 
to the parties of the Treaty of 1839, upon which 
the existence of Holland as a modern nation was 
founded. The result of this appeal was a confer- 
ence of those powers at London on the 11th of 
May. Prussia consented to withdraw her garrison, 
whereupon the Grand Duchy was declared to be a 
neutral state under the collective guarantee of the 
powers that were .parties to the Treaty. The 
territory was to belong to the reigning house of 
Nassau-Orange, and the town was to cease to be a 
fortress. What, then, was the real status of the 
question at the end of the affair ? Simply that 
Prussia had completely frustrated the purpose of 
France, and had transferred the necessity of de- 
fending the Grand Duchy from herself to the 
leading powers of Europe. 

It was w^hile the enemies of the Napoleonic re- 
gime were busy in making all possible capital out 
of the Luxembourg question, that the sad termi- 
nation of the imperial drama in Mexico was an- 
nounced. On the 19th of June, 1867, while the 
Emperor was engaged in the ceremonies of an mi- 
periaiy6^(5, a despatch was handed to him contain- 
ing the startling words : " Maximilian was shot 
to-day." 

At a time when Napoleon had been confident 
that the United States would be permanently 
riven asunder, he had undertaken and accom- 
plished the conquest of Mexico. It was soon 



DECLINE AND FALL. 5()7 

found, however, that the exertions necessary to con- 
trol the nation were altogether disproportionate to 
any advantages which France could hope to real- 
ize. The battle of Gettysburg, which changed the 
fortune of the Southern States, put a ne^v aspect 
on the condition of affairs. Not only had the con- 
querers, at the end of 1863, failed to secure a gen- 
eral acknowledgment of their sway throughout the 
country, but they became aware that the United 
States, if restored, as they now seemed likely to be, 
would in no way tolerate a settlement of European 
Imperialists on the borders of the Union. 

Such was the state of the question when Napo- 
leon, to free himself from the further burden, suc- 
ceeded in finding an Emperor for the young em- 
pire in the Archduke Maximilian of Austria. This 
prince consented to undertake the task only after 
the Emperor had succeeded in convincing him that 
he was generally desired by the Mexican people. 
On the 12th of June, 1864, he entered the capital of 
Mexico. At first he was to be supported by the 
French soldiers, but these were to be gradually 
withdrawn, and their places filled by Austrians 
and Belgians. The war against Juarez, the presi- 
dent of the legitimate Mexican Eepublic, dragged 
its weary length along and gave no promise of 
a termination ; and yet, notwithstanding this fact, 
Napoleou decided, owing to the determined atti- 
tude of the government at Washington, to with- 
draw tlie French troops. Previous to the out- 
break of the Austro Prussian war, it was his pur- 



508 I>EMOGRAGY AND MONARCHY IN FRANCE. 

pose to accomplisli the evacuation in three divi- 
sions : one to withdraw in November of 1866, one 
in March of 1867, and one in November of 1867. 

The war in Germany, however, added a new fac- 
tor to the problem, and the Emperor resolved to 
bring back the whole force early in 1867, urging 
Maximilian, meantime, to justify the act b}^ resig- 
nation. This the Archduke declined to do ; there- 
upon the Emperor left him to his fate."^ 

When the news of Maximilian's death reached 
Europe, the whole of France felt that her honor 
was affected by the sad catastrophe. The Mexican 
war had never been popular in the nation; and 
it was now claimed boldly, that under a parli- 
amentary government, it would never have been 
undertaken. Those who had charged the Emperor 
with weakness after Sadowa, and had emphasized 
their charges after Luxembourg, now brought for- 
ward Mexico in the way of absolute proof of their 
positions. The time had been, they said, when the 
word of France was a power in Europe which no 
nation dared to disregard ; but now every foreign 
question with which the Emperor became involved 
resulted only in national dishonor. 

It was in the spirit of wounded pride, engen- 
dered by these several diplomatic failures, that the 
people of France entered upon the year 1867. 
Toward the Emperor there had never been so 
much ill-feeling ; and the government saw the ne- 
cessity of making concessions. On the 19th of 

* Delord, Histoire du Second Empii^e, vol. IV. chap. XTII. 



DECLINE AND FALL. 509 

January J^apoleon wrote to Ms minister a letter 
in wliicli lie marked out the line of policy to be 
pursued. '' The discussions on the address to 
the throne," said he, " have proved nothing more 
than a wasteful treasury of words. They are to 
be abolished, and the right of ministerial interpel- 
lation, prudently regulated, is to be substituted in 
their place. In future the ministers are to be pres- 
ent in the chamber, and to take part in the de- 
bates ; the law against public meetings is to be 
modified, and the supervision of the press is to be 
transferred from the discretionary power of the 
government to the tribunals of the correctional 
police." 

If the Emperor had founded any hopes of a 
return of popular favor upon these concessions, he 
must have been bitterly disappointed. Neither 
his friends nor his enemies received them with any 
manifestations of satisfaction. It was at once 
pointed out that the right of interpellation now 
granted was quite identical w^ith what had in the 
previous session been demanded by the minority 
of forty-six, and had been rejected by the support- 
ers of the government as nothing short of an insult 
to the imperial power. The quick-wdtted Parisians . 
were not slow to see and to point out tliat the Em- 
peror, in granting what his friends liad so vigor- 
ously characterized as an insult, had simply made 
either himself or his friends ridiculous. So far, 
then, as concerned the concession, it failed utterly 
to awaken any enthusiasm, while the suppression 



510 DEMOCRACY AND MONARCHY IJST FRANCE. 

of freedom of debate, of course, awakened posi- 
tive hostility. 

The modification of tlie law against assembling 
for political discussions was scarcely less unsatis- 
factory. Meetings were allowed only within cer- 
tain fixed dates, and even these were surrounded 
with so many minute regulations that no very 
considerable gain was realized. As if to be cer- 
tain that no harm would result to the government 
from the new privilege, it was determined that 
^'in any case themmister could forbid, and the pre- 
fect dissolve, such assembly at pleasure." 

But the measure which attracted most attention, 
and which was of much the greatest importance, 
was the one which pertained to the control of the 
press. The penalties of arbitrary suspension were 
done away with, and in their place was substituted 
a system of exorbitant fines. Printers and pub- 
lishers were relieved from the necessity of taking 
out a license ; but all writers were liable to be de- 
prived of political rights for fiYQ years, — a penal- 
ity of unusual severity in France, where journalism 
is the principal avenue to political success. Thus 
it will be seen that the new law merely transferred 
the severity of the penalty from the publishers 
and printers to the writers, — a change which, 
though doubtless in the line of strict justice, could 
not but a-ffect unfavorably the tone of the press 
toward the government. 

The effect of the new law, however, showed 
that the people regarded it as of considerable im- 



DECLINE AND FALL. 511 

portance. The mere abolition of the former ar- 
bitrary regime gave an immense impulse to the 
newspaper press. So completely had the discre- 
tionary powers of the minister crushed the pro- 
vincial press in France, that seven of the largest 
towns, exclusive of Paris, with a population of 
about a million and a half, only possessed eleven 
daily newspapers, and the total circulation of these 
reached less than a hundred and thirty thousand.*'^' 
In less than six weeks after the promulgation of 
the new law, thirty new papers had sprung up in 
Paris alone; and in the provinces, no less than 
sixty-five. 

The influence of the new law was on the whole 
unfortunate. It was universally understood that 
the concession, if indeed the change was to be 
called such, had been made not to principle but to 
necessity. If greater freedom was to be granted 
to the press, it would seem that common-sense 
would have dictated that it should be done at a 
moment when the government was in popular favor, 
— at a time when it could afford to run the risk of 
severe criticism. As a fact, however, there had 
never been a period when there was so much dis- 
content as at the moment when the press was re- 
lieved of its heaviest chains. It is impossible to 
conceive of anything more imi)olitic than the 
course of the Emperor in keeping the pi'ess muz- 
zled during the days of his prosperity, and then, 

* The whole subject of journalism under the Second Empire is ably 
treated by Delord, in vol. II. chap. IV. and vol. IV. chap. XV 



512 BEMOGEAOY AND MONARCHY IN FRANCE. 

when a series of political disasters had entangled 
him, in giving it freedom of speech. If popular 
feeling had been less pronounced and less intense, 
the folly of the action would have been less con- 
spicuous; for under such circumstances wi'iters 
would not have dared to defy inevitable conviction 
and excessive penalt}^ Now, however, no terrors 
of the kind daunted them. So long as a large 
share of the reading community regarded the Em- 
peror as an implacable foe, writers enough were 
found who were ready to advance to mortal com- 
bat. The result of all was a year and more of 
bitter excitement, of endless press trials, of cer- 
tain convictions, of excessive penalties. 

The political condition to which these various 
mistakes, to call them by no harsher name, had 
brought the country at the end of the year 1868, 
was well calculated to excite the most serious 
alarm. Abroad the traditional hegemony of 
France was virtually gone, and at home the hu- 
miliating consciousness of this eclipse penetrated 
to every class and almost to every household. The 
rural population were wavering in their devotion 
to the ISFapoleonic name, and were beginning to 
despair of the future. The priesthood, generally 
alienated by the position of the Empire on the 
Roman question, stood ready at any moment " to 
change their blessing into an anathema, should 
their exclusive corporate interests so demand." 
The hourgeoisie^ exasperated by the tricky, shallow, 
insecure, and time-serving policy of the government, 



DECLINE AND FALL. 513 

teld it up to scorn in contrast with their own 
earnest and honest struggles for the general en- 
franchisement. Finally the imperialist party it- 
self, dissatisfied with the concessions made to their 
opponents, and distrustful of the temporizing pol- 
icy of their master, seemed to be fast approaching 
the point of absolute dissolution. Such, in gener- 
al, was the spirit of the nation when the time ar- 
rived for the election of a new assembly. 

On the opening of the campaign it was found 
that liberal ideas had advanced so far that it was 
necessary to modify the ordinary methods of ]Dro- 
cedure. The official candidates, though as vigor- 
ously supported by the government as ever, were 
nevertheless obliged to disavow all relations with 
the prefects. The bribery and corruption and 
trickery which were resorted to, as we have seen, 
in 1863, were in no respect abated, though the 
government was obliged to throw around its oper- 
ations something more of the appearance of fair- 
ness. Notwithstanding the gigantic efforts put 
forth in behalf of the official candidates, a count- 
ing of the- ballots revealed the fact that three and 
a half million had dared to vote for the opposition, 
and that the Coiys Legislatif oi 180 9 would be a 
parliamentary body prepared to challenge the pol- 
icy of the Emperor at every step. It I'equired no 
power of second-sight to see how matters were 
drifting. In Napoleon's first Corjjs Legislatif 
there had been no opposition whatever; in the 
Chamber of 1857 the opposition numbered only 



514 DEMGOBAGY AND MOWAHGEY IN FRANCE. 

five members ; in that of 1868, it counted forty- 
five; in that of 1869, it was scarcely in the minor- 
ity. The situation was becoming desperate, and 
vigorous, if not desperate, measures had to be de- 
vised to meet it. 

The course of the Emperor was the counterpart 
in folly, of the course he had pursued in his treat- 
ment of the press. So long as it was well dis- 
posed, he kept it chained and muzzled ; when it 
was on the point of going mad, he unmuzzled it 
and turned it loose. So long as the Corps Legis- 
latlf was overwhelmingly favorable to his regime^ 
he denied it the right of the initiative; now that 
the number of his enemies was nearly or quite 
equal to that of his friends, he made haste to re- 
move their restraints. By the decree of November 
8th, 1869, he gave to the chamber the right to in- 
itiate legislation, made senators and deputies eligi- 
ble to places in the cabinet, declared that each leg- 
islative body should decide upon its own internal 
organization, and determined that the budget 
should be voted on article by article rather than 
as a whole, and finally consented that amend- 
ments disapproved of by the government should 
be pronounced upon in the last appeal b}^ the 
Chamber. 

Had these important concessions been made at 
a time when the Emperor was strong enough in 
the legislature to control its action by legislative 
means, they would doubtless have subserved the 
real interests of the nation ; under existing: circum- 



DECLINE AND FALL. 515 

stances, however, tlieir principal effect was to en- 
courage the opposition by opening to it and plac- 
ing in its hands a new means of making itself 
felt. The opportunity thus presented was not 
long neglected. It immediately became obvious 
that nothing short of most im|)ortant and rcidical 
I'eforms would satisfy the chamber. 

The |)rogramme put forward included the abo- 
lition of the laws of public safety and of official 
candidature, the suppression of the stamp on news- 
papers, the adoption of trial by jury in cases of 
cUlits de presse^ decentralization of the govern- 
ment, and liberty of higher education. It was 
evident that if these measures should be adopted, 
and should be carried out with honesty and fidel- 
ity, the personal power of the Emperor would be 
destroyed forever. What was to be done ? The 
Emperor did not hesitate. On the one hand, he 
accepted the programme of the reformatory party ; 
on the other, he resolved to appeal to the people 
in the Y\mj of ^ jylehiscite. By dismissing his min- 
istry and calling Ollivier to the head of aifairs, 
he endeavored to retain the favor of the Corps 
Lcgislatif] by appealing to the peo]3le, he hoped to 
gain a new lease of power. The sixth article of 
the Constitution declared : " The Emperor is re- 
sponsible to the French people alone, to whom he 
has at all times the right to appeal." To this llnal 
court of arbitration, then. Napoleon resolved to 
carry his case. 



516 DEMOCBAGY AND MONABGHY IN FBANGE. 

Up to within fiYe days of tlie time when the 
vote was to be taken, political assemblies for dis- 
cussion were allowed. The spirit with which the 
campaign was carried on furnished a new illustra- 
tion of the saying of Milton that "when the devil 
tyranny hath once entered into a people, it goeth 
not out but with foamings and great convulsions." 
In one of the political meetings. Citizen Lermina 
" proposed that Louis Charles Napoleon Bonaparte, 
called Napoleon III., should be condemned to im- 
prisonment and hard labor for life." The wretch 
argued the matter in all seriousness, and found a 
crowd of willing listeners. The proposal cost him 
two years of imprisonment and a fine of ten thou- 
sand francs. The affair is important simply as 
showing the spirit in which the campaign was 
carried on. 

To the great assistance of the imperial party, 
some letters were found with a man who had just 
come over from England, containing allusions to a 
great " amputation " that was to take place. At 
about the same time, in one of the suburbs of Paris, 
a chest was discovered containing a quantity of 
bombs and gunpowder. These two - circumstances 
were put together, and the police at once magnified 
them as a " frightful conspiracy." The opposition 
newspapers laughed and scouted at the matter as 
an absurdity, whereupon five of them were in- 
stantly confiscated. After this warning, the others 
with pardonable prudence allowed the spectre of 



DECLINE AND FALL, 5] ^ 

the " Beamy Conspiracy" to stalk abroad unclial- 
lenged. It proved a great success. The Presm 
declared that ''the object of the conspiracy was 
to destroy the Emperor and the whole of Paris. 
Whoever is not with us, is for the murderers ; 
whoever votes Yes,^ votes against the conspirators 
and their bombs." *^' The ''Left " asserted boldly 
that the whole affair was an invention of the gov- 
ernment, arranged for the purpose of frightening 
the masses of the people with the ghost of murder 
and revolution into supporting it at the polls. 
"Whether this be true or not, it is certain that the 
matter had an immense influence on the election. 
The official journals magnified the aifair and the 
terrors to which it pointed, while the opposition 
journals, warned by the confiscation of their col- 
leagues, dared not say a word. The Hed Itepuh- 
lican Spectre had never lost its terrors for the 
peasant proprietor; and now, when the question 
presented was not concerning this policy or that 
policy, but rather concerning government or an- 
archy, it is not strange that the people voted for 
government by a majority of five to one. It is to 
be noticed, however, that no amount of manage- 
ment on the part of the government was able to 
bring the majority up to what it had previously 
been, and that the proportion of those who had 
voted No had been largest in the best educated 
and most influential departments, and smallest 

Miiller. Geschkhte dcr Oegeuwart, 1870, s. 35. 



518 DEMOGRAGT AND MONARGHY IN FRANGE. 

where there was the greatest poverty and igno- 
rance.'"* 

Napoleon chose, of course, to interpret the result 
of the plebiscite as a new lease of personal power. 
He regarded it, or at least professed to regard 
it, as a renewed expression on the part of the 
people of faith in himself. 

Meanwhile the Oorps Legislatif was less tracta- 
ble than he desired. It seemed determined to 
hasten on the government along the pathway of 
reform in spite of itself. With the right of initia- 
tive now in full possession, it was no longer de- 
pendent on the Emperor for the introduction of 
political measures ; and it was bold to strike out a 
pathway of its own. Among other innovations, it 
passed a bill in opposition to the Government, 
giving to the Conseils Generaux the right of 
political discussion. Conceal it as the Emperor 
and his friends might, the ugly fact still remained, 
that there was in the legislative body a formida- 
ble opposition which could not but inspire serious 
forebodino^s for the future. 



* Immediately after the election the Temps published an analysis of 
the votes, in which it was shown that in seventeen of the best educated 
departments the Noes amounted to 26 per cent. , while in the twenty- 
three least educated they were only 11^ per cent. In the cities, where 
the course of the government could be thoroughly exposed, as in Paris, 
Lyons, Marseilles and Bordeaux, the Noes even had a majority. 

The votes on the three pUUscites of Napoleon III. resulted as fol- 
lows: 

Yes. JSFo. 

Presidency for ten years (Dec. 20, 1851) 7,437,216 646,737 

Hereditary Empire (Nov. 21, 1852) 7,824,179 253,145 

Amended constitution (May 8, 1870) 7,310,296 1,530,610 



DECLINE AND FALL. 5 19 

It was at the moment when this domestic quar- 
rel was assuming its most threatening aspect that 
a great foreign opportunity presented itself. All 
questions of family disagreement were suddenly 
eclipsed by the question of the Hohenzollern can- 
didature. The military supremacy of France had 
been overshadowed ; here was an opportunity to 
re-establish it in the sight of all mankind. The 
Second Empire had lost a great j)art of its pres- 
tige with the people ; here was a means of regain- 
ing it. The government had been outwitted 
in all its diplomatic eiforts to extend its 
boundaries to the Rhine ; here was an oppor- 
tunity to accomplish in the field what it had 
so signally failed to accomplish in the cabinet. 
Nothing would reinstate the hegemony of France 
and the prestige of the Second Empire so 
surely as a successful war with their hereditary 
enemy, Prussia ; and no better occasion for 
war than the present was likely to occur. As 
for an unsuccessful war, — it was not to be thought 
of. The needle-gun, it is true, had once occasioned 
some anxiety, but now the Ohassepots were ready, 
and so were the miUrailleuses. The question of 
arms thus disposed of, the whole matter was set- 
tled. Any one who presumed to think that those 
obese, drowsy, phlegmatic beings known as ces 
cjros Allemands were a match for Frenchmen, was 
simply either a fool or a traitor. When Monsieur 
Thiers contended that France was not ready for a 
war with Germany, their answer was substantially 



520 DEMOCRACY AND MONABCHY IN FRANCE. 

that lie must change Ms opinion, or they would 
burn his house. 

But the most important question of all was the 
one which the government and people alike over- 
looked, namely, the condition of the army. 

Immediately after the successes of Prussia in 
1866, the French government determined to re- 
model its military organization. Marshal Niel 
was entrusted with the superintendence of the 
work, and he set about it with undoubted ability 
and vigor. The Emperor, in his speech from the 
throne in January, 1867, had discoursed at length 
upon the peaceful prospects of Europe, at the same 
time adding that the results of the last war 
pointed out the necessity of perfecting the military 
organization without delay. This non-seq%iitiir 
could not but arouse the Emperor's enemies both 
at home and abroad. In Germany it was at once 
interpreted as evidence of hostile intent ; and it 
doubtless had its influence in strengthening tJie 
German powers in their efforts to perfect the 
military organization. In France, howevei', the 
effect of the declaration was in great measure to 
weaken the hands of the government. The incon- 
sistency of the positions assumed by the Emperor 
was remorselessly exposed in the Corps Legislatif. 
Rouher favored the members with an elaboration of 
the purposes of his imperial master, whereupon 
Jules Favre put to him this crushing dilemma: 
" Either the speech you have made us is nothing 
but a necessary ostentation, corresponding in no 



DECLINE AND FALL. 521 

way with the real political situation, or you are 
bound to withdraw the bill for military reorgani- 
zation which you have just laid before us." 
" France must congratulate herself," responded 
Rouher, " to see the old German Confederation, an 
enormous mass of seventy-five millions, whose 
purely defensive character was a mere illusion, 
l)Token itp^ as it noio is^ into three fragments.'''' ^' 

In the face of such weakness and such inconsis- 
tency, it was impossible for the legislative body to 
enter with spirit upon the work of reorganizing 
the army. It said practically : " If the govern- 
ment anticipates war, let it say so plainly, and we 
will furnish all needed supplies; but it declares 
that our foreign relations are in the fullest sense 
satisfactory. If this declaration is true, our army 
is in no need of being strengthened." 

In this way it was that the hands of the govern- 
ment were paralyzed. By its vigorous call for a 
reorganization of the army, it had strengthened 
Prussia ; by its declaration that the results of the 
Austro-Prussian war were satisfactory to France, 
it had made such a reorganization apparently un- 
necessary, and consequently almost impossible. 
Marshal Niel, therefore, labored under every dis- 

* At the moment when these words were uttered, the treaty giving- 
to Prussia the military control of the Southern German States had 
already been signed, but had not yet been published. Within a few 
days, however, Bismarck chose to give it publicity, thus proclaiming to 
Europe that of Rouhor's "three fragments," two were virtually one 
under the control of Prussia, while the third was simply crippled 
Austria. 



522 DEMOGRAGY AND MONARGRY IN FRANGE. 

advantage. He carried on the manufacture of 
cliassepots quite diligently, but further tlian this 
very little was accomplished. Any material in- 
crease of the size of the army v^as, under the circum- 
stances, deemed unnecessary ; and therefore, when 
an attempt Avas actually made to place it on such 
a footing that it would not compare unfavorably 
with that of Germany, the violence of the opposi- 
tion was greatly intensified. 

From this condition of affairs two results ensued. 
On the one hand, the impression got abroad that 
the French government was straining every nerve 
to increase the army to the highest possible effi- 
ciency ; while, on the other, the government was 
so hampered, that any considerable actual increase 
was impossible. Thus, while the country resounded 
with words about " conscription " and " prepartion 
for war," no real jDreparation was actually made. 
Europe was thoroughly deceived. 

This condition of military affairs under Marshal 
Mel was rendered still worse under Marshal Le- 
boeaf. " Strange as it will now sound," says Rlis- 
tow, " the disposition of this marshal was absolutely 
peaceful. He wished to economize in the army, 
and to raise its tone through less expensive institu- 
tions." "* But the very fact that the common im- 
pression prevailed that Leboeuf was warlike in his 
sympathies, while he was actually pacific, increased 
the misfortune of the nation in the direction above 
indicated. Military preparations practically cea sed, 

*E,usto\v, The War for the Rhine Frontier^ vol. I. p. 89. 



DECLINE AND FALL. 523 

thougli the impression prevailed abroad that the 
government v^as actively preparing for war. 

In consequence of these various causes, the 
strength of the French army, at the outbreak of 
war, was much less than it was popularly believed 
to be, either in France or in the rest of Europe. 
The laws of 1867 and '68 provided for an annual 
contingent of 100,000 men, thus giving to France 
an establishment of 500,000, in active service, and 
250,000, in the reserve. These laws, however, were 
so feebly enforced that scarcely more than half of 
that number were actually brought into service — a 
fact which is a most extraordinary commentary on 
the weakness of the imperial policy. On this 
whole subject, so eminent an authority as Riistow, 
after a careful analysis of the different branches 
of the army, sums up his conclusions as follows : 

" The French army, on the normal war footing 
of 1868, could place in the field 285,000 men, in- 
fantry and cavalry, and 984 guns, having in the 
second line, as depot troops, 91,000 men, infantry 
and cavalry. On a peace footing, the army could 
muster about two-thirds of these numbers ; and if 
the calling in of these reserves was, in spite of the 
amendments introduced in 1868, not to be easily 
accomplished, the fact had to be accepted that, in 
case of the sudden breaking out of the war, only 
about 200,000 men, infantry and cavalry, would 
be disposable for actual service. 

" The military preparations of France, expressed 
by these numbers, are terribly meagre when com- 



524 DBMOGUAGT AND MONARCHY IN FBANCE. 

pared witli her population and with her moral and 
material resources. This evil state of things was 
to be remedied by the New Service Act, Avhich, 
prepared since 1866, was published on the first of 
February, 1868. But in reality this act wrought 
no essential changes, for it created no new troops 
or cadres for the active army ; so that in the fu- 
ture, as in the past, in case of a serious war break- 
ing out, every addition would have to be impro- 
vised." ^^' 

A similar analysis made by the same author 
shows that the military strength of the North Ger- 
man Confederation alone amounted to no less than 
475,200 infantry, 55,000 cavalry, and 1,204 guns, 
exclusive of the reserves, f At the outbreak of 
the war, then, " Germany," says Rlistow, " could 
muster in field troops 518,000 men, infantry and 
cavalry, with 1506 guns; France could oppose to 
them 285,000 men, infantry and cavalry, with 964 
guns — that is, but little more than the half. Ger- 
many had as reserve troops 161,000 men, infantry 
and cavalry; France had as depot troops 91,000 
men. Germany had as garrison troops 187,000 
men ; France could show nothing as an equivalent 
to this, for the Mobile Guard, which was to fill 
their place, was simply not organized. We believe 
that in these round numbers we have given a true 
comparison of the land forces of the countries 
which, in the year 1870, were about to engage in 

*Eastow, The War for tJie Rhine Frontier, vol. I. p. 76. 
f Ibid. p. 115, et seq. 



BECLINE AND FALL. 525 

an unhappy war. These numbers distinctly ex- 
press the enormous military superiority of Ger- 
many on the land." '^' 

It must also be said that the comparative size of 
the two hostile armies was no more to the advan- 
tage of the Germans than was their comparative 
condition. The German army, from the peculiar 
manner of its formation, as I remarked in the in- 
troductory chapter, was a fac-simile of German 
culture. The army of France, on the other hand, 
was made up largely of substitutes serving in the 
place of those who were able and disposed to re- 
main at home. For this reason it contained the 
very dregs of society. In point of education and 
in point of moral taste, therefore, the difference in 
favor of the Germans was immeasurable. More- 
over, this difference was vastly increased by the 
laxness of discipline which prevailed in the camp 
of the French. Hiistow informs us that the army 
regulations in France were four times changed be- 
tween 1867 and 1870, and that each of the six 
different commanders of the imperial camp at 
Chalons during the same years had changed the 
methods of drill in accordance with his own pecu- 
liar fancy, f When these facts are contrasted 

* Riistow, The War for the Bliuie Frontier, vol. I. p. 129. 
f "As early as 1867 the infantry reg-ulations were rewritten, then 
thrice revised, so that the last edition only appeared in 1870, shortly 
before the outbreak of the war. But uevertheles? there were no com- 
prehensive chanjjes from former times to bo remarked. In opposition 
to the Prussian company-column, the French held to the battalion as 
the only tactical unit— very likely with perfect right with their pur- 



526 DEMOGBAGT AND MONARCHY IN FRANCE. 

with the system and rigor for wliicli tlie German 
military discipline Las long been very justly cele- 
brated, the result is simply to magnify vastly the 
difference which we have already seen to be so 
enormous. In the light of these comparisons we 
are driven to one of two conclusions : the French 
government must have entered upon the war either 
in profound ignorance of the military strength of 
the enemy, or in utter despair of rallying the 
French people in any other way. 

The publication of the despatches of Count 
Benedetti, who was during these years the minis- 
ter of France at Berlin, leaves us no possible room 
for doubt as to which of these conclusions is the 
true one. As early as the 25th of August, 1866, 
he sent to his government a long letter in which 
he gave an elaborate account of all the branches of 
the Grerman army. For still more minute details 
he referred to an accompanying report of his mili- 
tary attache^ and concluded his letter by declaring 
that if the organization contemplated was com- 
pleted, " the cabinet at Berlin would have at its dis- 
posal more than a million of men." '"' On the 18th 
of October following, he informed his government 
that the proposed military organization had been 

posely weak battalions. In the camp at Clialons every commander-in- 
chief who governed there in succession daring- the years from 1867 to 
1870, L'Admirault, de Failly, Lebceuf, Bazaine, Bourbaki, Froissard, 
manoeuvred according to his own devices and fancies without going 
deep into detail, so that it cannot with any justice be said that a new- 
system was established by these exercises." — Riistow, The TT^w for the 
Rhine Frontier^ vol. I. p. 86. 

* Benedetti, Ma Mission en Prusse, p. 207. 



DECLINE AND FALL. 527 

adopted. On the 18tli of December of the same 
year, lie wrote that the organization recommended 
by the Prussian minister was in full force, and 
that, in the conquered territories, the rules of the 
Prussian service were in process of rapid introduc- 
tion. About a month later the minister reverted 
to the subject, using such specific words as these : 
" I do not believe it superfluous to repeat that the 
Administration of War continues exercising the 
greatest activity. It is carrying out without re- 
laxation the constitution of the new Corps cPAr- 
w£e^ and it is pressing the other states of the 
Confederation to take, without delay, the steps 
which the organization of the federal army re- 
quires. It is evident, and this is the opinion of 
our military attaclie^ that they hold it as of the 
highest importance to place themselves in a con- 
dition to confront any eventuality." '^^ In March 
and April, 1867, the same subject was referred to 
in the same vigorous manner. Again on the 5th 
of January, 1868, the ambassador sent a long de- 
spatch devoted to the same subject. He showed 
in the first place that in the event of war, France 
could have nothing to hope from the hostility of 
foreign powers to Prussia. He then reverted to 
the condition of the German armies. The key- 
note of this portion of the despatch was in its 
opening w^ords : .'' The more I observe the conduct 
of the Prussian government, the more I am pur- 
suaded that all its efforts tend to extend its power 

* Ibid. p. 208. 



528 If^MOCRACT AND MONARCHY IN FRANCE. 

over tlie wliole of Germany. I am each day 
more convinced that it is pursuing success in this 
direction, with the conviction that it cannot attain 
its end without making it impossible for France 
to place any obstacle in its way. How and by 
what means it seeks to obtain this twofold result 
is what I ask permission to exj^lain to you to-day, 
by recalling and uniting in a general view the dif- 
ferent items of information which I have already 
had the honor of transmitting." '''' 

On the subject of military strength the writer 
then proceeds to show how the Prussian govern- 
ment had gained possession of the different re- 
sources of the country ; how, after the last war, 
three new corps had been formed; how at the 
same time secret treaties had been formed with 
Bavaria, Wiirtemberg, and Baden ; how still 
another engagement had been signed with Hesse 
and all the smaller states, by which their troops 
formed a part of the Prussian army ; and finally 
how, by the law which voted the contingent for 
five years, the last requisite had been complied 
with for placing all the resources of Germany at 
the call and the pleasure of Prussia. f Finally, on 
the 14th of January, 1870, only six months before 
the outbreak of the war, he wrote : " The specific 
views which animate the king and the prime 
minister do not in the least prevent them from be- 
stowing the same care that has always been shown 
at Berlin on the development of the military 

* Benedetti, Ma Mission en Prusse, p. 351. f Ibid. p. 384. 



DECLINE AND FALL. 529 

forces of Prussia. They manifest the same solici- 
tude for the preservation of the good relations 
that have been established with the Court of St. 
Petersburg. The solidarity of the Prussian army 
and an eventual alliance with Russia are looked 
upon at Berlin as the two guarantees necessary for 
the permanence of the conquests made in Ger- 
many." ^ 

Not to prolong the discussion of this question, 
then, it may be stated that the despatches of Ben- 
edetti placed clearly before the Emperor these four 
points : first, that the military organization of Ger- 
many was most perfect and most powerful ; second, 
that Southern Germany, as well as Northern, was 
under the control of Prussia ; third, that the rela- 
tions of Prussia and Russia were such that no hos- 
tility between them was likely to be brought 
about ; and, fourth, that Germany had no hostile 
intentions toward France. No study of the causes 
and character of the war can yield satisfactory re- 
sults unless the student remembers constantly that 
the French minister gave to his master detailed 
and reiterated information on each of these four 
points. 

* Ibid, et seq. 

Perhaps the most remarkable and most valuable passag-e in this de- 
spatch is the one in which, while he warns France aryaiast the strength 
of Prussia, he informs her that Prussia has no spirit of aggression. 
lie shows that though the King had gathered in strength from every 
quarter, at home and abroad, until his resources were enormous, lie 
had evidently " no intention of using them save for the purpose of com- 
pelling other nations to respect the right of G-ermany to control her own 
political affairs." — Ibid. p. 357. 
23 



530 I>JE]MOGBAGT AND MONARCHY IN FBANCE. 

At the outbreak of tlie Franco-German war, it 
was claimed by the friends of the French cause that 
the attitude of Germany toward France had long 
been one of hostility, and that, in consequence of this 
attitude, it was impossible that a war should long 
be postponed. When the famous "draft-treaty" 
was published, it was claimed that, although writ- 
ten indeed in the hand of the French ambassador, 
it had been done at the prudent dictation of the 
Prussian minister. That such was the fact we 
are given to understand by Benedetti himself, 
in. the volume from which I have already quoted. 
But, unfortunately for the currency of such an ex- 
planation, the German troops, in the course of the 
war, took possession of the private residence of 
the French minister, Rouiier, and with it of the 
correspondence which took place betv/een Benedetti 
and the French government. This correspondence, 
or so much of it as was deemed necessary to jus- 
tify the Germans, was published by Bismarck soon 
after the appearance of Benedetti's volume. Noth- 
ino; could have been more crushins^ to the cause of 
the French. It was only a few days after the ap- 
pearance of the detailed account of the French 
ambassador (in which it was claimed that the an- 
nexation of Belgium and the left bank of the 
Khine was the proposition of Prussia) that the 
correspondence was given to the world. *''"" It 
showed that as early as June, 1866, Benedetti was 

* De/utscher ReicJis-Ameiger undKoR'glich Preuszischer Staats-Anzei- 
gei\ Berlin Freitag den 20 OMobei\ Abends^ s. 2735. 



DECLINE AND FALL. 53 1 

instructed to study and report upon tlie disposition 
of the Germans toward France, with special view 
to French ao;arandizement : that he had accord- 
ingly reported that the German people were liter- 
ally unanimous in the intense patriotism with which 
" they would resent every idea of a transaction 
which might involve the loss of any portion of ter- 
ritory whatever ; " that these assurances were reit- 
erated in the strongest possible terms ; that, only 
a few weeks afterwards, Benedetti was instructed 
to demand of Prussia the cession to France of all 
the provinces west of the Rhine ; that this propo- 
sition was indignantly rejected by Bismarck, who 
declared that, if pressed, it would result in a war, 
attended with a revolutionary crisis ; * that Bene- 
detti hereupon went to Paris, and there received 
formal instrnctions in Avritins; to demand the ces- 
sion to France, in open treaty, of Landau, Saar- 
louis, and Saarbriick, together with the acquies- 
cence of Prussia in the seizure of Luxembourg by 
France, and a secret treaty of alliance, with the 
seizure of Belgium by France as its price ; that the 
actual cession of German territory, if found unat- 
tainable, might be dispensed with, but that Belgium 
and Luxembourg were essential, and must be in- 
sisted on ; that Benedetti, not daring to propose 
these terms to Bismarck, took tlie liberty of saying 

* Faites bien observer a Sa Majesty I'Empereur qu'une guerre pareille 
pourrait dovenir dans certaincs cventualitos unc guerre a coups de revo- 
lution, et qu'en presence de dangers revolution naircs les dynasties alle- 
mandes feraient preuvc d'etre i)lus solidement etablies que oelle de 
TEinpereur Napoleon. 



532 JDEMOGBAOY AND MONARCHY IN FRANCE. 

notMng of German territory, but of confining him- 
self to Luxembourg and Belgium ; and, finally, that 
the Emperor had indicated his purpose by sending 
to Benedetti these concluding words : '' If you 
think that the annexation of Luxembourg had bet- 
ter be concealed until after we lay hands on Bel- 
gium, I should be obliged by your giving your 
reasons in detail." ^' 

It needs only to be said farther on this subject, 

Perhaps tlie most important part of this remarkable article is the 
following : 

' ' Zugleich wird angedeutet, dass man in Paris die Einigung Deutsoh- 
lands als eine ' dans un temps prochain,' unvermeidliche Eventualitat 
betrachte. Man diirfe indessen nicht ' solidariser I'article IV avec I'ar- 
ticle III — il est bien evident, que 1' extension de la suprematie de la 
Prusse au dela du Main nous sera une occasion toute naturelle, presque 
obligatoire, pour nous emparer de la Belgique ; mais d'autres occasions 
peuventse presenter — nous devons en rester les juges exclusifs— , la re- 
daction tres-claire et tres-precise du projet nous maintient a cet'egard 
une liberte precieuse,' 

Wiederholt wird die Erwerbung Luxemburgs als das unmittelbare, die 
Belgiens als das eventuelle Ziel der Konvention f estgestellt und letzteres, 
sowie die Offensiv- und Def ensiv-Allianz sollen geheim bleiberu Es heiszt 
weiter : 

' Cette combinaison concilie tout, elle ditend 1' opinion publique en 
France par I'obtention d'une satisfaction immediate et Torientation qui 
en resulte pour les esprits vers la Belgique. Elle maintient un secret 
necessaire et sur le traito d'alliance et sur les annexions en projet. Si 
vous pensiez que la cession mfime de Luxembourg doit rester seorvt 
jusq'au moment de la mise sur la Belgique, je vous prierai de justifier 
cette appreciation par des observations detaillees. Car la suspension 
plus ou moins indefinie des echanges de territoii-es pourrait m^me Ctre 
une cause de precipitation malencontreuse dela question beige.' 

Am Schlusz des Briefes wird Graf Benedetti ermachtigt, sich, vvenn 
er es f dr nothig halte, auf einige Zeit nach Karlsbad zu begeben. Graf 
Benedetti hat diesen Pariser Brief unter dem 20ten August beantwortet. 
In seiner Antwort spricht der franzosische Botschafter zum ersten Mai 
Zweifel aus, ob man aus Preuszen's Aufrichtigkeit in der Sache werde 
rechnen konnen ; er bemerkt, dass ihm ein gewisses Misstrauen des 



DECLINE AND FALL. 533 

that since tlie publication of tliese depatclies all at- 
tempts to throw upon Germany the responsibility 
of the war must be the dictate either of ignorance 
or of dishonesty. For Bismarck, in the light of 
these facts, to have been unprepared for war, would 
have been as inconsistent with wise statesmanship 
as it would have been fatal to German unity. 

Now with all these facts before us, it is difficult 
to characterize with too great severity the course 
of the French government in bringing on the war. 
That the renunciation of the Hohenzollern candi- 
dature (the only thing at first demanded by 
France) afEorded an honorable means of solving 
the whole difficulty must be universally admitted. 
France might have retired, bearing aw^ay the fruits 
of a real triumph ; and it seems to me impossible 
to account for the amazing folly of the govern- 
ment in pushing the question farther, except by 
the theory of its own conscious weakness with its 
own people. The instructions of the Emperor to 
Benedetti, and the infamous address of Gramont 
in the Co7ys Legislatif^^' had inflamed the public 

Grafen Bismarck dariiber entgegentrete, ob der Kaiser Napoleon nicht 
solcbe Verhandlung benutzen werde, um zwiscben Preussen und Eng- 
land Misstrauen zu erregen." 

* Of this speech Charles de Mazade, in a very able and discriminating 
article on the origin of the war of 1870, says: " Cette declaration, 
portce avec une certaine solennite au corps Icgislatif par le ministre dcs 
affaires ctrangcres, par M. Ic Due de Gramont, avait et devait avoir une 
double consequence. D'un cote, on mettait le feu a Tosprit public ; on 
ravivait des passions, des ressentiments toujours mal apaisos contre la 
Prusse, .... d'un autre c6t6 parler ainsi du haut d'unc tribune, 
devant I'Europe, a un gouvernement fier, gontlo de recess succos 



534 DEMOCRACY AND MONARCHY IN FRANCE. 

sentiment of Paris until it was absolutel}^ beyond 
control. The war-cry, tlius first pronounced by 
the government, created such an excitement among 
the people that the Emperor and his cabinet were 
obliged at least to seem to lead public opinion, 
when in fact they were only swept along before 
it. From the moment when Gramont's address 
became generally know^n in the streets of Paris^ it 
is quite probable that the real alternative was, as 
it certainly seemed to be, between foreign war and 
revolution. After reading the despatches ad- 
dressed to the Emperor's government, it is impossi- 
ble not to believe that he knew the risk he was 
running; we are driven, therefore, to conclude 
that the Emperor saw little hope of saving his 
throne but by throwing himself upon the mad 
current of popular opinion. "^^ 

c'etait commencer par le piquer dans sons orgueil et lui rendre peut-utre 
les concessions plus difficiles, De toute maniere, on creait une situation 
inextricable. — Revue des Deux Mondes. 1 Jem. 1874, p. 196. 

* The desperate haste and excitement with which the neg'otiations 
just before the war were carried on by the French government will be 
seen bj a simple enumeration of a few facts. It was on the 6th of 
July that Gramont, speaking- for the government, pronounced his cele- 
brated address in which he expressed the hope that the event contem- 
plated would be averted by the "wisdom of G-ermany and "the friend- 
ship of Spain." and that, "if it should turn out otherwise, strong in 
your support and in that of the nation, we shall know how to do our 
duty without hesitation and without feebleness." On the 8th of July 
(in the evening) Benedetti arrived at Ems. On the 10th Gramont 
complained of delays, at the same time declaring to Benedetti, that 
his telegraphic despatches had been mutilated ( ' ' votre dernier telle- 
gramme chiffre d'hier soir a ete trongue et denature"). Benedetti in 
his turn answered that he could decipher the despatches received from 
the government only imperfectly. This, however, was of no conse- 
qiience ; the afEair must be hastened without waiting for exact infor- 



BEG LINE AND FALL. 535 

It has been no part of my purpose to trace tlie 
events which followed in so rapid succession the 
outbreak of the war. I trust that enough has 
been said to show not only that the issue of the 
struggle could not have been other than what it 
was, but also that the inferiority of France was 
not due to any single cause alone, but to a long 
succession of debilitating influences. There is 
nothing more impressive to the student of history 
than the enormous cost of what we call civiliza- 
tion ; and next to this fact in impressiveness is 
the difficulty of eradicating certain classes of evils 
when once they have taken root in society. The 
evils of the old regime had become so desperate 
that it was simply impossible to hold the people 
longer in subjection under it, and accordingly when 
the American Revolution set the example, and an 
opportunity was offered by the meeting of the 

mation. ' ' We must have au answer to-morrow," telegraphed G-ramont ; 
'' day after to-morrow will be too late. Write, telegraph ; if the king 
is unwilling to advise the prince of HohenzoUern to renounce, it is war 
at once, and in a few days we shall be on the Rhine " ( ' ' Et bien ! c'est 
la guerre tout de suite, et dans quelque jours nous sommes au Rhcin "). 
In this manner affairs were pushed. On the 12th an envoy arrived at 
Paris with the renunciation of the prince. At the very least this oc- 
casioned a reason for delay untU a messenger should arrive on the fol- 
lowing day from Ems. But not at all. That very Evening a despatch 
was sent to demand an engagement of the king that the matter should 
never be brought forward in the future. On the 13th the king declined 
to make such an engagement. On the 14th it was circulated at Paris 
that the king had refused an audience to Benedetti (a pure fabrication, 
as Benedetti himself declares), and that very evening, without waiting 
for a messenger from Ems, war was declared in the Corps Lcgislatif. 
On this whole subject see Revue des Beux Mondes, Jan. 1, 1874, p. 
199. 



536 



DEMO GB ACT AND MONARCHY IN 



States-General, an outbreak could not be prevented. 
The Revolution was, however, the uprising of an 
overwhelming mass of men and women who had 
been rendered insane by long imprisonment, rather 
than a revolution of rational beings who knew 
what liberty is, and who deliberately set about the 
work of acquiring it. It is undoubtedly true that 
a despotism of centuries had rendered the French 
people incapable of performing their legitimate 
part in the establishment of liberty ; it is no less 
certain that the deplorable results of this tyranny 
remained long after their v^orst causes had been 
removed. 

That the French Revolution failed to accomplish 
any great result can by no means be asserted ; and 
yet it may be affirmed with positive assurance that 
what it accomplished was far different from that 
which it set out to accomplish. Nothing is now 
more certain than that the condition of the masses 
of the French peasantry made it almost, if not 
quite, impossible to carry out a thorough-going 
reform ; hence the various radical attempts that 
have been made in this direction have miscarried, 
and have only served to illustrate once more the 
truth of the saying of Machiavelli already quoted, 
that '' he who neglects what is^ in order to follow 
what 02i(jkt to />(?, will sooner learn how to ruin 
than how^ to preserve himself." 

While the French peasantry have been kept by 
their lack of education from taking any intelligent 
and active part in the politics of the country, they 



DECLINE AND FALL. 537 

have afforded a convenient constituency for that 
large class of intense partisans with which France 
has long been afflicted. As a rule the masses of 
the people have been eminently conservative. 
They have either abstained from politics altogether, 
or, if they have been forced into some degree of 
political activity, they have devoted themselves to 
the support of the party in power, whatever that 
party might be. This fact, paradoxical as it may 
seem, has afforded the best possible material for 
the j)urposes of an intense partisanshijD. A spirit 
of revolution wants nothing better to feed upon 
than that conservative apathy which is always 
ready to accept and adopt an accomplished fact. It 
is in orreat measure for this reason that France has 
been to such an extent the sport of faction. With 
a peasantry ignorant and apathetic, with no states- 
man of ability so pre-eminent as to be able to 
mould the various elements of society to one com- 
mon purpose, the nation has again and again fallen 
a prey to the most headlong violence. Though 
the French Revolution taught, as a general truth 
and with a greater emphasis, what the English 
Revolution within a narrower sphere had taught 
a hundred years before, namely, that governments 
must make their policy conform to the will of the 
nation, it also taught that republican institutions 
as well as monarchical have their dangers, and that 
they can be prosperous and permanent only when 
they rest upon the basis of a general and active 
intelligence. 

23 



INDEX. 



Accountability of the execu- 
tive in France contrasted 
with that of England, 476. 

American Revolution not rev- 
olutionary, 115. 

Army of France, attempts to 
reorganize the, in 1868, 521 ; 
strength of, at the outbreak 
of the Franco-Gennan War, 
526. 

Augereau, 173. 

Ballot in France, character of 
the, 428. 

Banquets, part of, in the Rev- 
olution of 1848, 296, 305. 

Barras on the 13t]i Vendemi- 
aire, 156 ; relations of, with 
Napoleon I., 187. 

'' Beaury Conspiracy," 516. 

Benedctti, faithfulness of, in 
informing the French gov- 
ernment of the military con- 
dition of Germany, 526. 

Bill of Eights of Lafayette, 
119; consequences of its 
adoption, 120. 

Bossuet, influence of, on poli- 
tics, 55. 

Bourgeoisie, opinions of the, 
concerning Napoleon I., 229 ; 
influence of, in bringing 
about the Restoration, 244 ; 



part of, under the adminis- 
tration of Guizot, 267. 

Brumaire, the eighteenth, pre- 
liminaries of, 188 ; coup 
d'etM of, 193. 

Bugeaud, vigorous conduct of, 
in opposition to the Revolu- 
tion of 1848, 320, 324. 

Galas Affair, its nature, 56 ; its 
influence on Voltaire's popu- 
larity, 58. 

Centralization after the 18th 
Brumaire, 211; in general 
in France, 430, 455, 464. 

Charles X., condition of France 
under, 247 ; failure of, to 
cure national disorders, 249 ; 
folly of, in choice of minis- 
ters, 250. 

Commercial impulses after the 
Restoration, 231. 

Condillac, his treatise on sen- 
sations, 46 ; his pernicious 
influence on morals, 48 ; his 
encouraging influence on Sci- 
ence, 49 ; his fatal influence 
on religion, 50 ; on politics, 
52. 

Conservatism of the masses in 
France, 403, 537. 

Constitution of the year III., 
its great error, 122, 153; re- 



540 



INDEX. 



reaction caused by it, 122 ; 
its weakness, 208. 

Constitutional liberty, condi- 
tions of, 98. 

Constitutional limitations, ne- 
cessity of, 98. 

CorjJS L'egislatif, importance 
of, under the Second Empire, 
452. 

Decline of political virtue in 

France, 127 ; of patriotism, 

133. 
De Z? Esprit of Helvetius, 

character and influence of, 

41. 
De Maistre, political doctrines 

of, 123. 
De Tocqueville, his estimation 

of Napoleon I,, 137. 
Directory, weakness of the, 

124; condition of France un- 
der the, ]26. 
Discontents prevalent in 

France, 8. 
Dumorlard, protests of, against 

Napoleon I., 168. 

Education in America, char- 
acteristics of, 14. 

Education in France, condition 
of, and bad influence of the 
Great Revolution on, 28. 

Education in Prussia, 12 ; char- 
acteristics of, 21 ; value of, 
27. 

Elections, methods of, under 
the Kestoration, 244 ; char- 
acter of, in 1848, 372, 385 ; 
under the Second Empire, 
440, 456, 517. 

Electoral reform attempted un- 
der Guizot, 279. 

English Liberty, Bousseau's 
opiaion of, 70. 



English Revolution, real char- 
acter of, 114. 

Equality, relations of, to lib- 
erty, 99. 

Finances in 1848, weak man- 
agement of, 378, 386. 

France, deplorable condition 
of, under the Directory, 127, 
179; foreign policy of, re- 
versed, 158; debilitated con- 
dition of, in 1814, 223. 

Franco-German War, predic- 
tions concerning the, 3 ; 
preparations of France for, 
522 ; preparations of Ger- 
many for, 526. 

French Government, revolu- 
tionary character of, 5, 10. 

French People, condition of, 
previous to the reign of 
Louis XIV., 34. 

French Revolution, bad influ- 
ence of, on education, 28 ; on 
politics, 536. 

Fructidor, the eighteenth, 173 ; 
its influence, 175. 

Gohier, firm conduct of, in op- 
position to Napoleon L, 197. 

Guizot, his picture of France 
in 1814, 223; ministry of, 
255 ; his fitness for his posi- 
tion, 257 ; the political creed 
of, 258-265 ; his special de- 
sires on entering the minis- 
try of Louis Philippe, 267 ; 
his policy sustained by the 
elections, 268; division of 
parties under, 273 ; views of, 
concerning electoral reform, 
279 ; mistakes of, 284, 301 ; 
the successes of, 286, 290 ; 
his proposal to resign, 298 ; 
speech of, on current ques- 



INDEX. 



541 



tions, 302 ; his dealings with 
the banquets, 305 ; weakness 
of his policy concerning the 
banquets, 315; fall of his 
ministry, 317; his last offi- 
cial act, 320 ; his views of 
the English Revolution, 4:08. 

Helvetius, De Ij Esprit of, 
41 ; influence of his teach- 
ings, 44; immense popular- 
ity of, 45. 

Histoiical Associations, great 
value of, in any nation, 83. 

Hohenzollern candidature, 520. 

Illegitimate births in Paris, 
enormous number of, 350 ; 
influence of the fact on pol- 
itics, 351. 

Illiteracy in France at the 
time of the Revolution of 
1848, 345 ; at the outbreak 
of the Franco-German War, 
31 ; in Germany, 31 ; in the 
United States, 31. 

Individuality, necessity of gen- 
eral respect to, 93. 

Journalism in France, general 
character of, 480 : treatment 
of, by law of 1852, 483; by 
law of 1853, 484. 

Lafayette, political creed of, 
119. 

Lally Tollendal, his portrayal 
of the revolutionary spirit, 
117, note. 

Lamartine, part of, in the Revo- 
lution of 1848, 327 ; appeal 
of the revolutionists to, and 
his answer, 328 ; poor quali- 
fications of, for political 
work, 330 ; as a poet and 
historian, 331 ; position of. 



in respect to the Revolution, 
334 ; failure of his predic- 
tions, 339 ; his popular 
power, 384. 

Lavalette, advice of, to Napol- 
eon I., 172. 

Lebceuf, administration of, as, 
Secretary of War, 522. \ 

Ledru-Rollin, electioneering 
circulars of, 373. 

Literature, tramels of, under 
the Second Empire, 487. 

Louis XVIII., character of, 
236 ; mistakes of, 239. 

Louis Philippe, his position 
before tlie Revolution of 
1848, 300; weak policy of, 
when the Revolution broke 
out, 317 ; abdication of, 
324. 

Mabl}^, political fancies of, 
107. 

Majorities in favor of the gov- 
ernment, 412. 

Moulain, firm conduct of, in 
opposition to Napoleon I., 
197. 

Napoleon I., inconsistencies of, 
140 ; pretensions of, 141 ; 
conditions favoring, 143; 
birth and childhood of, 144; 
mediaeval and barbaric char- 
acter of, 145; studies of, 
147 ; absence of moral 
power of, 149 ; first work in 
Paris of, 155 ; relations of, 
with Directory, 159 ; his 
methods witli the army, IGO, 
171 ; duplicity of, with Ven- 
ice, 1G2 ; sends a stiletto to 
Paris, 170; his estiuiate of 
the nation after the 18th 
Fructidur, 175 ; his Egyptian 



542 



INDEX. 






campaign, 177; his revenge 
on Kleber, 178 ; influence 
of his return, 182 ; device 
of, for getting the govern- 
ment in hand, 185; relations 
of, with Barras and Sieycs, 
189; device of, for getting 
Lsfebvre under control, 191 ; 
his part in the 18th Bru- 
maire, 198; centralization 
under, 211 ; his influence on 
public order, 220 ; aban- 
doned by the intelligence of 
the nation, 226. 

Napoleon III., political doc- 
trines of, 406-420; his re- 
view of Guizot, 407 ; bis de- 
vices for rciising himself, 
414 ; his assurances of integ- 
rity, 419, 426 ; is elected a 
member of the assembly, 
422 ; a candidate for the 
presidency, 424 ; power of 
the initiative and its evils, 
427 ; his opposition to the 
voice of the nation from 
1863-1868, 500; his bad 
management of the Luxem- 
bourg affair, 504 ; precari- 
ous condition of, in 1868, 
512 ; reforms attempted in 
1868, 515 ; failure to reor- 
ganize the army, 522. 

Napoleonism, the rise of, 131 ; 
the basis of, 141. 

National Assembly, absolute 
power of, 113; real nature 
of, 116; diflerent parties of, 
116. 

National Traits, persistency of, 
475. 

Niel, attempts of, to reform the 
army, 522. 

Paris, influence of, in French 



politics, 294 ; number of il- 
legitimate births in, 350. 

Parliam entary government, 
conditions of, 259, 262. 

Peerage, folly of creating a, in 
1815, 240. 

Philosophers of the He volu- 
tion, general character of 
their influence, 83, 84. 

Plebiscite in France, its real 
character, 432, 518. 

Press, degraded character of, in 
France, 490 ; bungling man- 
agement of, 511. 

Prussian army, characteristics 
of, 22. 

Prussian education, character 
of, in general, 13. 

Prussian History contrasted 
with that of France, 12. 

Public men in the United 
States compared with those 
of fifty years ago, 16. 

Public opinion, power of, above 
all law, 82, 93. 

Recuperative energy of France 
in 1815, 233, 234, note. 

Reformatory spirit in France 
compared with that of Eng- 
land, 282. 

Reign of Terror, the result of 
peculiar doctrines, 106. 

Religious influence of Condil- 
lac and Helvetius, 51. 

Representation, fatal doctrines 
concerning, in France, 94. 

Repu blican Government not 
desired by the French peo- 
ple in 1848, 340. 

Republicans, weakness of, in 
1848, 342 ; folly of, 362. 

Restoration, the, 219; part of 
the middle classes in, 228, 
243. 



INDEX. 



543 



Eevolution of 1848, 287 ; divi- 
sion of parties at its out- 
break, 291 ; the natural re- 
sult of J) re vailing doctrioes, 
296 ; part of the banquets 
in, 309 ; the work of La- 
grange, 317; the spirit of its 
leaders, 318 ; fatal policy of 
Thiers in, 322; overthrow 
of the King, 324 ; appear- 
ance of Lamartine, 327 ; his 
work in hastening the Revo- 
lution, 332 ; choice of a Pro- 
visional Government, 336 ; 
weakness of the Republicans, 
341 ; division in the govern- 
ment, 355, 357 ; frivolous 
character of the work of 
the new government, 357 ; 
workshops and their influ- 
ence, 366 ; great increase of 
taxation, 370 ; revolutionary 
regime becomes unpopular, 
371 ; character of the elec- 
tions, 373 ; conspiracy of 
June 14, 380 ; attitude of 
the new Assembly, 382 ; at- 
tempt of the mob, 384 ; bat- 
tle of the 24th of June, 389 ; 
barbarities of the mob, 391 ; 
reaction, 392 ; call for a 
firm government, 396. 

Revolutionary spirit all-pow- 
erful in France, 8 ; its. true 
nature, 87 ; after the 18th 
Fructidor, 173; general in- 
fluence of, 198; nature of, 
under Guizot, 271, 281, 295. 

Roederer, his grand plan of a 
constitution, 210. 

Rousseau, contemptible char- 
acter of, 65 ; influence of, 
greater than that of any 
contemporary, 66 ; nature 
of his system, 67 ; its posi- 



tion fatal to all society, 71 ; 
his views of the ailments of 
society, 72 ; his remedies, 
74 ; popularity of liis v/rit- 
ings, 74 ; his immense influ- 
ence in precipitating the 
Revolution, 75 ; in making ^ 
all kinds of government in 
France difficult, 79. 

Saint-Just, political fancies of, 
108. 

Sieyes, proposition of, in States- 
General, 112; relations of, 
with Napoleon I., 188. 

Socialists, the demands of, 
382. 

States-General of 1789, circum- 
stances of their meeting, 
110; difficult V of organiz- 
ing, 111. 

SuflVage universal in France, 
401. 

System of education in Prussia, 
political value of, 18, 26. 

Thiers, political character of, 

265, note ; fatal political 

blunder of, 322. 
Third estate, condition of, in 

1789, 111. 
Thoroughness, Prussian habit 

of, 24; results of, 26. 

Universal Suffrage in France, 
401 ; in Nice and Savoy, 440 ; 
in the general election of 
1863, 456; influence of, 
469. 

Yendemiairc, the thirteenth, 
156. 

Voltaire, peculiar education of, 
54; influence of the Galas 
aflair on, 56 ; religious pecu- 



544 



INDEX. 



liarities of, 68; war of, 
against religion, 60; de- 
structive influence of, 61, 
64 ; excellence and amount 
of Lis writing, 62 ; extraor- 
dinary popularity of, 63. 

War of 1870, preparations for, 
520. 



Writers in France, character 
of, 294. 

Workshops established in 
1848, 363; cost of, 366; 
evil influence of, 367 ; prop- 
osition to abolish them, 387. 

Yeomanry in France, its polit- 
ical position, 38. 



